When All Hell Threatens
by truthinpassion
Summary: Nearing the end of Norman we have all our heroes trapped in a room awaiting the coming of Asteroth, but inspite of the lines and the wonderful acting, what are they really thinking, feeling?  And because it will be months before we see more action...
1. Chapter 1

CONTINUITY: Begins at the end of the episode Norman.

DISCLAIMER: The scripted words belong to the creator of the episode "Norman". The characters belong to Tanya Huff, Lifetime Network, Insight Productions, and everyone else involved with creating the series. Most definitely, and sadly, do not belong to me. I hope, should any of them read this, they understand the compliment and are not offended.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: In a perfect world we would not have to suffer through the hiatus of the NEtworks as they judge the commercial worthiness of a series that is young and full of potential. I can only hope that the creators and produces will see past any fears they might have and take a stand on not following the 1980's/1990's stereotypical science fiction action show. People want more than just midnless action. They want to be willingly held captive through visual and visceral feelings. May I suggest a primary focus on the characters in the show rather than the plot. Plot will come as the characters work around their issues.

"Who the hell are you?" demanded Norman. In less than a heartbeat, he took the new man's measure; the beige long coat, the dress shirt and tie, the gun pointed directly at him. Cop. By the shift in Henry's stance, the reaction on Vickie's face, it was obvious the two knew him. Still, bullet or no, vampire, or no, there was nothing these three could do to him that would be worse than what he had suffered at the will of Asteroth. He would not suffer it again.

Rising from his seat beside Coreen, he advanced towards the trio, his anger provoked, while his tone remained unconcerned. "You think shooting me is gonna stop me?"

"Might make me feel better," replied Detective Michael Celucci with a grim smile as he adjusted his aim. Only with Henry had he ever felt this burning desire to destroy without thought. It was as if some animal instinct had risen in him and he could barely contain it. He knew what he sounded like, what he must look like, he could even feel Vickie's gaze in his direction, but he had little concern about what she thought of him at this moment for there sat Coreen, an innocent pawn completely at this demon's mercy….In Mike's book, another notch against the bastard son of a king.

Amused by this new man's audacity, Norman ducked his head for a moment, pretending to give the man's desire serious contemplation. Then, with unexpected fury, he gathered his new and hard earned powers, lashing out first toward the cop then, as a second thought, toward the vampire.

Henry, sensitive to the use of the dark arts, felt the surge of power, but had little time to defend himself. Almost faster than the eye could see, he was slammed back against a green painted wood door, the muscles between his shoulders pierced by the nail jutting from the upper panel. The pain, however, was inconsequential to his fear as he realized he could not break free this supernatural grip.

"Now excuse me," said Norman with a careless wave of his black clawed hand. "I have a little ritual thingy here to take care of here, okay?" He beseeched. "We can argue about this later." Then, to keep his victim's off balance, he swiftly turned his attention to his prey. With teeth clenched and his voice reflecting his impatience, he thrust out his hand. "Vickie, would you just give it to me!"

Not missing a beat, Vickie balanced her body weight forward, preparing to strike. In the back of her mind however, doubt was beginning to gnaw at her. Henry had told her to have faith, but faith for her was always in short supply, more so these days then at any other time in her life. She used to believe in herself, trust in her skills, in her heart to guide her true, but how many times in the last few months had she been wrong? How many times had her actions resulted in injury and death to those around her?

And she had believed in Henry as well, believed he had her back in all these crazy scenarios, and yet all that faith in him had been wiped away when he had admitted to not having destroyed Norman's ritual objects.

She looked at Coreen, and her heart shrunk just a little tighter in her chest as she saw her young assistant struggling to keep calm and controlled. They had been here before, the two of them, trapped by Norman's crazed desires; victims of his demented mind. And it was her fault Coreen had been caught by Norman this time as well as the last. If she had made an attempt to phone her as she rode the cab to Henry's. Or, if she had left a note telling her to stay away from the office, Norman would not have found her so easily, would not have dragged her kicking and screaming through a demonic portal to this place and bound her by more than just her ropes, but by fear of something worse than death.

Vickie glanced at the pentagram outlined in burned wood on the floor and marked by unlit black candles. The motion of turning her head even slightly increased the throbbing pain inside tenfold and blurred her vision even more. Exhaustion dogged her, turning her thoughts inside out. She couldn't even remember the last time she had truly slept. Her energy stores were low, her confidence even lower. Maybe she deserved this, taunted that ever present voice inside her head. Maybe she deserved to be dragged into the abyss of Hell. Why not? Her grip tightened on the dagger's tip. Who was she in the grand scheme of the world? Certainly she wasn't anyone so special as to deserve not to die.

Still, whether she did or not, didn't mean that others deserved the same. She stared at the demon and though her faith was not renewed, she still had a smattering of hope within her heart. There was still a slim chance she could stop this tragedy here and now.

"Okay, Norman, we'll play it your way. You want the dagger? Here it is!" Cringing as the motion stressed her already bruised back and shoulder, Vickie launched the dagger at Norman's heart.

A flick of his wrist, a laugh and a nod of appreciation, Norman caught it with ease. "Nice throw." He said with a devilish grin, ignoring the strange tingling he felt as his fingers played with the blade. "All right, here we go."

Easily reading the defeat in Vicki's face, Norman turned his back on her and on the tiniest spark of remorse that struggled to rise up into the last shred of disappearing humanity. Crossing to Coreen, determined to cauterize the bleeding in his soul with this final act of reparation for his own failure, he waved his hand in the air and like a maestro before an orchestra began the ceremony that had begun months ago.

"Corpus. Malefectum. Toto mascuto et obe dire!" Sliding behind Coreen, he laid the dagger directly against her straining throat then turned to watch the results of his power.

A great howling filled the room. Beneath their feet the floor bucked and trembled as if trying to fight the foulness rising up out of its very beams. But it could not. Within moments, the floor gave up its fight and melted away, leaving a maelstrom of swirling darkness in its wake. Shadows and light battled upon the walls like moonlight upon rippling water as paper and small items were sucked into the vortex.

Beneath the cold threat of the dagger's sharp edge pressed against her averted throat, Coreen cringed and closed her eyes. Silently she prayed to all the gods her fear stifled mind and soul could recall; prayed for absolute death and not the threatened promise of demonic resurrection.

Across from her, Vicki, Henry, and Mike each stared in mounting horror as the void stretched its evil outward, undulating and pulsing with a foul dark life even their worst imaginings could not do justice to. For Mike it was nearly inconceivable. He had not witnessed the beginning of the summoning the last time Norman held his girls hostage, and though he was witnessing it all now, a part of him struggled to believe in the veracity of it all.

Vicki on the other hand knew only a cold hand of certainty settling upon her soul. She may have argued with Henry and herself a time or two regarding her disbelief in the influence of Fate, but in this moment, faced with a future that stretched out beyond death, she could see all the events in her life, all the things she thought she had chosen to do, leading straight to this moment and could not escape the harsh reality. This was her destiny. She could only hope it was to continue battling on the demonic forces that threaten her side of the world rather than being a pawn to bring them forth to perpetrate atrocities no sane soul could imagine.

Connected to her as he was, Henry read the direction of her thought. Fear clawed at him. Horror and guilt dogged his heart. He could have prevented this. If only he had listened to the one person he had sworn an oath to protect and destroyed the objects Norman now used with perfectly evil intent. Maurice, would still be hungrily hoarding his treasures like a dragon. Coreen would not be primed for sacrifice, countless others would still be tending to their lives and Vicki would not be facing this greatest threat to her alone. Prince among Men? Bah! More the case of an arrogant fool! He knew what these Dark powers could do, what they were capable of doing. Why hadn't he listened to her?

"It's time, Vicki," rasped Norman. Shifting his grip on Coreen, he shoved the girl forward; his last act of kindness toward the one who had brought him to this. "Go!"

"Run, Coreen! Get out of here!" Vicki cried as she stepped up to take her place. By her count, Norman still needed two more physical sacrifices.

Coreen's feet and heart took her as far as the open door. Turning, she faced her demon and chose. She was no coward. She would not let Vicki make fight this alone as she has seen her fight so many times before. "Not without you!"  
She cried.

"That's the spirit!" Mocked Norman. "Use that!" Then, as if he suddenly realized he had wasted enough times on feelings he shouldn't have, he lunged at the woman who had caused him so much grief. Grabbing Vicki's arm, he yanked her towards his altar.

"Now let's finish this, Vicki!" Poising her hand above the ancient stone chalice, he turned his gaze to the black whole to Hell and recited the second part of the summoning. "Apario domi hi ut ego mai proficio minus votum terminus!" Satisfaction filled him as it grew. He could feel the hungry power of Asteroth waiting just beyond his vision. "Yes!"

As if his touch had enough power to render her incapable of struggle, Vicki listened to the foul words pouring past Norman's lips and watched in voiceless horror as he turned the sharp edge of the dagger up against the soft flesh of her palm. Slowly, he dragged the sharp edge downward slicing through the tender flesh of her palm. His reward; an instantaneous well of blood.

Sharp and burning hot, the pain tore a surprised cry from Vicki's throat. The very sound shattered the lethargy of hopelessness that had flowed through her. Struggling against Norman's foul strength, she fought him even as he squeezed the blood from her body.

The instant her blood was released, Henry's rage flowed unchecked through his body. With great relish and an equal part dread, he welcomed the beast within him. Green eyes glazed to black and the fangs he kept retracted slid down with aching swiftness. _Mine_, his heart shouted as he watched Vickie's blood rain down into the goblet, its life force spilling, wasted. _Mine_!

Orgasmically focused on his success, Norman watched the thick river of red fill the hollow of the cup. It wasn't until he had all he needed, that he realized the burning sensation invading his flesh was coming from the dagger and not the power of the ritual. With a growing horror, he opened his hand and stared at the glowing blade. A wave of unspeakable sorrow dowsed his growing fulfillment. "Ohh…what did you do?" He cried in disbelief.

Staring at the dagger, Vicki felt a nearly overwhelming urge to shout out; I believe! Instead, she raised her gaze to Norman and over the roar of supernatural winds shouted with simplicity; "had the dagger blessed by a priest on the way over."

As the enormity of her words sank in, Norman stared at the now boiling blood in the chalice. Cold wicked dread slid over him and a glance at the gate he had opened told him all he needed to know.

Lightning swirled and pulsed along the edges of the whole as the gate's mass began to shrink. There was only one word that welled within him at this twisted turn of events. He may not be human any longer, but it appeared Murphy was still attached to his afterlife karma. "Ahh, crap!"

On the heels of the exclamation, the power he had wielded vanished, releasing both Mike and Henry from their invisible bonds. Surprised, Mike staggered and tripped, but Henry, with over 450 years of being blessed with animal grace, landed ready to spring at the demon who had the audacity to take what was his.

"It's over Norman!" Shouted Vicki above the increasing furious roar of Asteroth still bound in his hellish universe.

Rage filling him, Norman lifted the dagger to strike. "Not yet!"

With a bestial growl, Henry launched himself faster than the eye could see, stealing away the dagger and plunging it to the hilt into the demon's chest. Satisfaction filled him as watched Norman realize he had failed.

Recovering quickly from the pain and shock, Norman smiled at his vampire enemy. "You think this is over?" He raked a long black claw up his throat, teasing the beast with the promise of injury, but not following through. Asteroth's punishment was going to be bad enough because of his failure. He did not need to compound it with a second mistake. The vampire was not Norman's to take. Instead, he turned to Vickie, his prize, his future redemption, the ultimate source of this; his second failure. "You felt it. All the crazy things that have been drawn to you since we met…You're the doorway Vicki and whether you like it or not," he continued with sweet persuasion. "Asteroth is gonna come knocking. These marks," he said, grabbing her arm once more. Sliding the sleeve of her jacket down, he revealed the tattoo burned black into her flesh. Unable to resist the power of it, he brought it close to his lips and with an almost lover-like passion, he spoke to her of their meaning. "You think they're a curse? They're a gift. You just have to embrace this Vicki and you can have anything that you want….Even him." His eyes trailed toward Henry.

Vicki followed his gaze to the figure standing stone still at her side. Though a part of her cringed at having her innermost desires being laid out for everyone to see and hear, another part thrilled with the thought of having Henry. For a moment, just a moment, her heart and soul burned bright with selfish desire. To have Henry all to herself, to not have to share him with anyone else…What would that be like? Look at me, Henry, she wanted to say. Tell me you would want that; you and me together.

But he didn't look, didn't even react as if he heard the thrilling promise of Norman's words. And then she remembered his betrayal and the thrill faded to anger. Turning on Norman, hating him for making her see the weaknesses within herself, she yanked the dagger from his chest and slammed her fist into his face.

Staggering backward from the blow, Norman called out in Terminator vernacular, "I will be back!" An instant later, his demonic form of a dozen bat-like creatures was sucked into the whirlpool which collapsed immediately upon itself.

The immediate silence was deafening, broken only by the sound of sighs from all who remained in the room. As the echo of the faded, as the realization that the immediate threat of doomsday had once again been averted Henry, Mike, and Coreen all converged on Vicki; one to gain assurance of normalcy through sarcasm, one to gain freedom and validation, and one to simply, quietly, be beside the woman who had been only heart beats away from seeing the end of her mortal life.

Fighting her weariness, the pain that racked her body and soul, Vicki pulled off her glasses, but refused to look at Henry. Instead, she blindly handed him the knife that had only moments before opened her flesh before his very eyes. Aching with regret, but not allowing any of it to show, Henry took it from her blood stained hand with as much care as one would handle a new born child. With it cradled within his palm, with his heart pounding fiercely against his chest, he turned his back on the trio of humans and began gathering up the three things he had believed once to be out of evil's grasp.

"God, I hate it when that happens," exclaimed Mike as he holstered his gun.

"Vicki--" Offering her bound wrists, Coreen glanced towards Henry. "Thank you," she said with great relief. "I didn't think anybody could stop it." Her gaze drifted once more towards Henry, the man she felt was responsible for once again placing her in death's grasp, the vampire who had been just as weak, just as unable to stop this as she had been. Anger and disappointment flashed through her and she too found herself unable to look Henry in the eyes. Turning her gaze towards the harsh red cuts on her wrists, she spoke her mind. "I thought he was going to kill me and take me with him."

"Let's just hope he stays down this time," said Vicki. With disgust, she threw the rope to the floor.

Reading them all loud and clear and unable to argue against the truth of their blame, Henry did what he has spent centuries perfecting; he slid past the emotion, avoided the heart ache, and prayed no one would notice his pain.

"What are you going to do with those?" Demanded Vicki as she saw Henry standing with chalice, grimoire, and dagger in his hands.

"Same thing I should have done in the beginning," he replied in emotionless tones. "We can destroy them together."

Vicki looked at him, a dark satisfaction filling her voice. "Good."

"Yeah, well that's all well and good, but I've got three unsolved homicides to deal with," began Mike with heavy sarcasm.

"Think of the bright side," replied Vicki, fighting desperately to regain some semblance of her normal self. Standing on the edge of an eternity in hell certainly put a different perspective on life. "It could have been four, five, and six!" She finished, pointing at Coreen, herself, and Mike.

"Yeah, I'll be sure to tell Crowly that," said Mike as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

Vicki winced, the pain of hearing the name Crowly almost overcoming the pain in her hand.

"Hey, how's your hand?" asked Mike, his tone softening with compassion.

"Ahh, it'll be all right."

Satisfied, Mike turned to Coreen. "Hey, come on Coreen; let's take a closer look at those cuts." Gently, subtly, he laid his left arm across her shoulders.

Surprised by both the move and the concern rolling off of Mike, Vicki and Coreen momentarily locked gazes before Mike guided her away, leaving Vicki alone with Henry.

Feeling suddenly uncomfortable, Vicki focused on the continued burning of her palm.

Sensing more than just the pain from the cut rolling off of Vicki, Henry stepped forward. "I'm concerned with what Norman might have done while he was acting as me."

Lips compressing, Vicki denied herself and him the truth of that scene. "Oh, not much. Yeah, I knew it was him right away."

It was easy for Henry to hear the lie in Vicki's heart, and though he knew there were more important things to discuss, he couldn't help but follow the thought. The very idea of Vickie being with that hell-spawned creature both repelled and attracted him. If Norman could have fooled him, then he was absolutely certain the demon had played one over on Vicki as well. "Really?" A small smile hovered about his lips as he watched the flush of blood flow upwards and fill Vicki's cheeks. "Cause he said he knew what you felt like. He said he had just been with you."

Oh, damn, thought Vickie. Quick, get yourself out of this one. "Okay," she admitted. "He might have fooled me for like a second." There, confess the truth and maybe he'll just let it go. Why was she even talking to him in the first place? Why on earth, when she was so angry with him, was she feeling so flustered? Because she knew what she had confessed, whispered a little voice inside her head. Because she had confessed to the demon believing it to be Henry, one of her most secret fears and regardless of the fact that Henry truly did not know, she still felt exposed, vulnerable. And as terrible as she was feeling right now, she was just about weak enough to repeat the same mistake.

"How far did that second take him?"

Man, he was like a dog with a rag! Taking a deep breath, she dropped her gaze, frustrated that he was not letting the line of questioning go. What did he want her to say? Kissing him? She had offered more to him in his apartment after Norman departed! It had been bad timing, of course, as was the growing threat of dizziness and nausea that was welling inside her. She'd be damned if she was going to reveal anymore weaknesses in front of him, however, so she set her will against the side affects of being beaten and nearly sacrificed and sought her so ever useful sarcasm to diffuse the moment. "Oh, come on, don't get any crazy ideas. You know demons. They lie—"

"Of course," replied Henry recalling his own moments with the demon.

Watching the rare play of emotions skitter across Henry's autocratic features, Vicki gasped. "He got you too!"

With a slight shake of his head, Henry grimaced. Did she really believe him so incapable a demon could fool him? What had made him gullible enough to being tricked had been his own overwhelming need to believe what that "Vicki" had been offering him. Realizing this was going nowhere fast, that he had somehow lost control of the moment, if he had ever had it to begin with, he decided to let it all pass. Let her think what she will. "Vicki," he said, gathering back his growing frustration. "Maybe we should just forget this ever happened."

Relief had her dropping her gaze before she revealed too much. "Absolutely," she said aloud, massaging her right wrist. With a last glance toward the pentagram and its toppled candles, she turned to leave.

Still feeling her physical discomfort as if it were his own, Henry cautiously rested the hand holding the chalice against the small of her back. Their steps sounded loud in the emptiness of the apartment. Below them, out in the street, he could hear the soft conversation between Mike and Coreen.

"_I can't believe him!" The anger in Coreen's voice was clear._

"_He's a demon, for Chrissakes, Coreen. What else would you expect him to do? Knit you a sweater?"_

_Coreen growled in frustration. "Not Norman, Henry!"_

_There was a pause and Henry could just picture Mike's face as he looked down upon Coreen. "What do you mean?"_

"_This is all his fault!"_

_Henry stilled the growl building in the back of his throat. Silently he cursed Coreen's inability to play her cards close, to keep her thoughts to herself. No doubt she was going to pour fuel on a fire that already simmered close to the surface of Mike's intolerance._

"_Coreen—"_

"_He was supposed to have destroyed the objects. He had promised Vicki to do just that, but he didn't! And look what happened! I trusted him. Believed in him and he betrayed us all! Oh, god, what must Vicki be going through? Mike, she laid her life in his hands! You know that couldn't have been easy for her!"_

"Henry?"

The sound of Vicki's uncertain tones drew him away from Coreen's accusations quicker than a heart beat. Caught up in the power of her words, he had failed to notice Vicki had stopped at the top of the stairs. His heart tripped when he saw how pale she was, how she swayed uncertainly, her hand tightly gripping the railing.

"Vicki?" Quickly he drew around in front of her. Even as he mocked his own instinctive response, he could not stop himself from caring. The connection for him was too strong.

Startled by his swiftness, Vicki drew back an awkward step, keeping her gaze focused on the floor. At least that didn't seem to be moving in and out of focus as much as the space in the stairwell had been. She heard the concern in his soft voice, felt it wash over her and gritted her teeth to hold her weakness in. Anger would do it. It had always worked before, but she found she could not muster even an ounce of it into her heart, regardless of Henry's seeming betrayal. She was tired, right through to her very soul. And she hurt, everywhere.

"Vicki." Reaching out, Henry laid a gentle hand along her left cheek.

Vicki gasped, pulling away from his touch.

Feeling himself a fool, Henry nearly let loose his frustration until he noticed what he had been blind to before; the tell tale signs of bruising across her cheekbone and down beneath her jaw. Faster than thought, he set the demonic objects on the ground then reached for her again. This time, gently grasping hold of her shoulders, he guided her to sit down upon the top step. "You're hurt."

Vicki resisted, but only for a moment. "I lied," she said softly, leaning her temple against the balustrade she still clung to.

"How so?" asked Henry just as quietly as he knelt two steps below her. Tracing his hands down the length of her arms, he ever so slightly opened himself to the connection between them and winced at the waves of pain pulsing within her sank within him as well. "Vicki—"

Aware of his touch, the comfort of his hands upon her aching body, Vicki faltered. "Norman, as you. I…we...he—"

Henry's heart nearly stopped as images of a thousand horrible possibilities flashed played inside his head. "Vicki—" his voice was filled with the pain, the fear they generated.

Lost in her own recollections, Vicki could not contain the short self-derisive laughed that escaped her. "Obviously the encounter did not go well." She raised her gaze to meet Henry's head on. It was difficult to hold him in focus, but she forced her eyes to function beyond the pulsing tunnel of her pain dimmed vision. She needed desperately to see his reaction. "He backhanded me fifteen feet across the room. I have no idea how long I was unconscious, but the minute I came to, my first thought was to call you. To warn _**you**_. Why is that, Henry? Why should I have even cared after what you did?"

A terrible chill settled through him, but he could not look away. He had not done so when he faced his father's disappointment and wrath, and he would not do so now. It was not in him to look away, no matter how terrible the price he was about to pay. Honor would not let him. "I betrayed you," he admitted quietly. "Betrayed your trust and broke my promise to you, to Coreen, to everyone whom I had sworn to protect."

For several heartbeats she held his human gaze and knew at last she was seeing the true Henry; the prince who would have gained the throne of the most powerful nation in his time, the young man who had turned his back on everything he had been taught, everything that had no doubt been beaten into him, for love. How hard that must have been. How much harder still when he realized the woman he had given up everything for could never return the same depth of devotion? "No," said Vickie softly. The admission broke her heart. Closing her eyes against the pain, she imagined she could almost hear the cracking of the wall she had long ago built about her heart. As the stones of her life crumbled, she strangely enough felt no fear, no anger, no embarrassment. She was numb and her self control was gone, blasted away by the Hell she had been shown. She had known he would think that. Hell, it had been her initial reaction to learning he had not destroyed the objects as well, but when the immediate anger and hurt eased, allowing reason to function, she knew deep down, he would never have deliberately done something so heinous. Now she just had to make him see the truth even while it spun in muddled circles inside her.

"Henry, I know you would not have taken such a risk unless you believed a greater good could have come out of it. Maybe you felt the secret to releasing me from this link with Asteroth was hidden somewhere in the book, and if so, it stood to reason that perhaps you might need the other objects Norman had used when Dr. Sagara discovered it." She shook her head, then regretted the motion as a wave a nausea clamped onto her gut. Breathing through it, she continued. "It's not the lie about Norman's treasures, but your lack of faith…in me."

Shock had Henry's grip shifting to hold tightly to her hand. "Vicki, no—"

"Yes," she countered with a tired sigh. "I know you have centuries of experience with this darkness that plagues me, with the black magic that has screwed with my life and I respect that knowledge. If I didn't, I would never have kept coming to you for help, for guidance. Yet, never once in this strange relationship we have, have you ever granted my own experience equal consideration. When the psychic first came to me, told me of her vision of the dangers coming to bear down upon my life, I believed in your ability to be able to help, trusted it with my very life, but did you trust my own instincts? No, you scoffed at them, doubted them, turned your back on them for the sake of getting something you believed you could not get from me. In less than twenty four hours I became nothing more than 'business'."

Henry cringed, but he couldn't deny the truth of her words. With the clarity of his cursed vampire memory, he recalled the evening. They had been watching a DVD, or at least, she had been watching as he had watched her; with curious intensity that bordered on obsession. The closeness of her on his couch, the smell of her; that intense fragrance that was a combination of scents worn on her body and emanating from her very soul had him yearning for more than just her company. The connection he worked so hard to downplay since his imprisonment and torture by Javier Mendoza, flared to life with a vengeance. He wanted her. Not just the soft curves of her body that were a constant temptation to the passionate man he kept locked away from the world, but her understanding and acceptance of him, of who and what he was.

At first he had thought himself successful as he tried to share what he felt, but when he tried to direct the conversation to a more personal level, when he drew closer to what he so desperately wished for her to face, she had raced back behind that wall of hers and slammed the portcullis in his face. The familiar rejection should not have made him react the way he had, but it had been almost impossible for him to control the anger building in him. So he had lashed out, using exactly the right words to drive the same stake piercing his heart back into her own. He hadn't known she would come to his apartment the next night, but the minute he opened the door to her knock, a nasty wicked beast, so much like his father his mouth grew dry with the thought, reared its ugly head. He seized the opportunity as he had to drain Mendoza dry, and struck with deadly precision.

"You would think," continued Vicki as if she were discussing the weather. As if she knew exactly what he had been thinking. "A man of your years, a man who claims to be no longer human, would have never resorted to such a childish response. I know you're frustrated with me. Hell, even I am frustrated with me, with this cowardice inside me, but never once did I think that you were frustrated enough to want to belittle who and what I am." Cocking her head to one side, she moistened her lips. "Do you even know what I am, Henry? Somehow I think _you_ forget," she said, tossing his words back at him. "I am no child of royalty. I was not trained from birth in the art of war, nor have I lived my brief life picking and choosing my battles. I am human, Henry. And I can die, never to be resurrected. I damn near did die tonight! And so did Coreen, because you cannot see past your princely, vampiric arrogance. We are all so beneath you."

Henry gasped, the truth piercing his heart with the sharpness equal to his own sword. He could see it, could see how she might believe this of him. How many times had she accused him of being nothing more than the Prince of Darkness, the Lord of Lechery? He just never thought to see beyond her sarcasm as anything more than jealousy and a human's inability to understand. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice deep with sincerity. "Vicki, you must believe me. I never meant for you to feel that way."

"But you did, Henry. Right from the very beginning when you took hold of my throat and so adamantly proclaimed that everyone was easy to kill. By everyone, you meant humans, me, because we are so beneath what you have become."

"Because I was afraid," corrected Henry.

Vicki blinked. "Afraid? Of what? What could I have possibly have done to you?"

Henry swallowed. "It's not what you could have done to me, but what I had suddenly felt I would do for you."

"I don't understand."

Henry sighed and relaxed his grip on her hand. With a graceful turn of his wrist, he held her hand palm up. The long ugly trail of torn flesh and moist blood called to him. He could smell the sweet and spicy fragrance of it, taste the memory of the last time she had offered him the healing balm of her life. And what had he offered in return? Taking a deep breath, he released the magic within his soul and brought the wound toward his lips. Raising his gaze to hers, he spoke. "From the first moment we touched, I felt a fire begin to burn inside me. Never had I felt such heat. In seconds you managed to chase away the cold, the darkness which had slipped long ago over my soul. Then you turned away, and just like that I was launched right back into that very darkness I hadn't even realized I had been in." Making certain she was absolutely aware of everything he said, everything he did, Henry watched her closely. Lifting her hand to his mouth, he took his tongue and traced the dagger's trail across tender flesh of her palm. Her gasp, the instant racing of her heart eased the tightness in his. Together they watched as the bloody and ragged cut sealed itself.

Sighing with the rightness of what he had done, Henry raised her palm to his heart and kept it there, unwilling to lose the connection and closeness her touch ignited within him. "I told myself later I had imagined it, but the moment I saw you again, the moment I first held the weight of your body against me, I knew I had not. In less than twenty four hours you had managed, without even realizing it, to rip away the complacency of centuries. I had to do something to take back the control you had so unwittingly stripped from me. What I said came from being raised a warrior and prince and you have no idea how much I regretted it when I heard the flutter of fear that tripped through your heart, the darkness of it creeping into your eyes."

"I'm not afraid of you," whispered Vicki.

Henry's lips twisted into a sad smile. "Of course you are." He said with great gentleness. "You forget, I could smell your fear, nearly tasted it when I had broken free of Mendoza's chains."

"No," denied Vicki. "I'm afraid of being hurt, of being no more to you than another meal, another cup of emotion to drink from then set aside when you grow tired of the taste."

Closing his eyes against the hot pain her words engendered, Henry turned his face into the caress. Taking hold of her hand, he pressed it tighter against his flesh before parting his lips and placing a gentle kiss in the center of it.

Mouth dry, Vicki watched the blind movement of his head, felt the heat of his lips all the way down to the soles of her feet and back up to the center of her desire. She could only gasp silently when he opened his eyes once more, revealing the black gaze of his timeless soul. His lips were moving against her palm, his words so quiet she almost missed them. Almost, but not quite.

"I have never looked upon you as my prey. Though the taste of you could fill my empty soul, I would never dare to treat you as less than what you are to me. Vicki, if Asteroth had managed to take you, I would have jumped right into Hell behind you. If you had died tonight, I would have sat right there in the center of that pentagram and waited for the dawn."

Vicki shook her head. "No. Henry, no."

"You are worth everything to me."

"Oh, God," sobbed Vicki. The tears she had managed to hold back flowed. "Don't do this," she whispered.

Tenderly, Henry smiled, the flash of his fangs sliding out just below his upper lips making him more attractive to her than ever before. "Don't do what? Don't tear down the walls you keep built around your heart?"

Vicki nodded and Henry could not resist. Leaning forward to capture her mouth with his own, he trembled with the enormity of what he was doing. Just as their lips were about to touch, a sharp voice like a tide of icy water, erupted behind them.

"Vicki!"

A low growl rumbled in his throat. Thwarted, the beast in him rose to the fore, only to be held in place by the simple power of Vicki's touch. In the space of time it took Coreen to reach them from the bottom of the stairs, Henry had his veneer of civility barely back in place. Taking a breath, he spared Vicki one last glance which spoke clearly that they were not finished with what they had started here. In a blink, he scooped up Norman's treasures and headed past Coreen in a burst of preternatural speed.

TBC? Let me know what you think. Thanks.


	2. Chapter 2

CONTINUITY: Part 2 When All Hell Threatens

DISCLAIMER: Unfortunately, I hold no rights to these wonderful characters created by Tanya Huff and the production crew of Blood Ties.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I can only hope that those who enjoy the Lifetime Series as much as I do are not offended by the direction the characters are taking in this piece of work. One can only hope that the caretakers of the series check out the desires of the fans and perhaps take a look a good look at this site, not just my story. I will always stand by my belief that if the series is going to succeed it needs to step out of the stereo type of paranormal vampire series and play up the wealth of possibilities they have in having a character that has lived through some pretty frightening and pretty fascinating pieces of human history. May I dare suggest as an example…Highlander? Let the stories go deeper, let the relationships unfold at a pace that is not so haphazard or sketchy. Keep continuity in the episodes, give the stories their time to unfold and not rush them to a conclusion in an hour. You have us at your mercy, be kind and give us something more.

Once outside, he slowed, allowing his form to be visible to Detective Celucci who was waiting with his usual impatience beside his car. Closing his ears to the words Vicki and Coreen shared in the building behind him, Henry turned toward his own car.

"Fitzroy."

Henry gave him a brief nod of acknowledgement before unlocking the Jag. "Celucci." Setting the grimoire on the seat, he made certain the unused blood sacrifice that had filled the chalice had dissipated; absorbed by the evil of the goblet, before locking it away in the glove compartment. He was more than aware of the detective's approach as he settled the blade back into the inner pocket of his jacket.

"You gonna explain to me what happened here?"

Straightening, Henry eyed him with arrogant disdain. "Was there something you missed?"

"Yeah," sneered Mike. "How 'bout the fact that if it weren't for you Vicki and Coreen wouldn't have damn near lost their lives tonight!"

"If it weren't for me," repeated Henry in deadly tones. In a heart beat he was standing right within Celucci's comfort zone. "Detective, I do not have to answer to you, though I suggest you do a bit more research before you continue further."

Drawing himself to his full height, Mike forced himself to not step back. He refused to let the likes of Henry Fitzroy intimidate him. "You forget, vampire, I'm very good at research."

Henry's full lips twisted into a semblance of a smile. "Are you perhaps referring to your narrow minded conclusions based on what you might think is a complete story? Have you got another body lying in the morgue with teeth marks on the neck and no blood?" He leaned closer, allowing his eyes to blacken, allowing just a hint of the power within him to escape. "Or is this some twisted ploy to get me to drink from you?"

Instinct beyond Mike's control had him stepping back before he could stop himself. The muscles and flesh of his neck suddenly throbbed in memory of Henry's sharp fangs digging cruelly deep and taking his fill of Mike's very life force. "You're sick!"

Henry stalked closer. Though he was shorter, he was no less a threat, no less able to reach out and draw the man to him as a mother would a needy child. "I am hungry, Celucci," he countered with a low growl. "More than you can ever know." And that was a truth, Henry could never refute, not even to himself. He burned with hunger, within his gut, within his soul, within his heart. Never in all the centuries since his turning had he felt such a all encompassing need that had only once source. Having admitted it to Michael Celucci was certainly not one of the smartest things he done this night, but if it got the mortal to stop and think of who and what he was trying to push, then it would be for the best.

Of course, he had to depend on Celucci having more than just a modicum of intelligence. Listening to the man's pounding heart, the rich angry, and yes, fear laced blood pulsing through the his body, the harsh rapid breath filling the man's lungs, Henry could calculate to the second the man's response.

"Why you son of a bitch….Over my dead body will let Vicki be alone with you!"

Teeth bared, Henry leaned close and whispered. "First, malign my mother again, and I won't hesitate to put you in your place. As for the second, if it weren't for Vicki's attachment to you, I would arrange that, Celucci. Your prejudice and imagined wounded pride is sincerely wearing thin."

Primal fear; that was how he would explain his reaction later. Genetic fight or flight instinct. The unnaturalness of Henry Fitzroy's life ate away at him until all he was left with was fear and rage. And if he was honest with himself at anytime, he would admit that this wasn't just about Vicki and whatever relationship she had with this creature. It was about himself, about having been a position of being the Alpha male in his territory only to have another, obviously much stronger man invade his space, hunt what he considered his. And Henry, in spite of his near animalistic behavior, was a man unafraid of those things which terrified Mike the most. And he hated that fear in himself as much as he hated Henry, God forgive him.

His right hand slowly, subtly slipped upward, inching beneath the folds of his jacket….

"Don't do it, Celucci," warned Henry.

"Mike!"

At the sound of her voice, clarity slammed into his mind. Slowly, feeling as if he were dragging himself out of the confines of a nightmare, he raised his gaze to the woman approaching. The sight of her cut through him and regret had his stiff shoulders dropping.

Walking with deliberate strides, keeping her eyes on her long time friend and former partner, Vicki found herself almost numb with disbelief. It didn't take much to guess the two of them were at it once more. Knowing Mike better than she knew Henry, she knew exactly who had started it, but she didn't absolve Henry completely. He knew exactly which of Mike's button's to push.

"Vicki," began Mike. "I can't—"

Vicki's hand rose sharply, stopping his trail of words with cold precision. "I want you to listen," she said. "I'm going to say this once, and I want everyone to listen. Please." Turning slightly, she included Coreen in her gaze, but she did not look at Henry. She couldn't, but deep down, she knew Henry would not feel slighted. She had no doubt he could easily sense her body's reactions to him standing so near. Instead, she looked back at Mike. _One day soon, my friend, _she promised_, you and I are going to have to sit down and have a very serious heart to heart. But not tonight._ She would be lucky if she had enough resistance left to keep herself from falling in Henry's arms after his revelation upstairs. "There is no blame. Whether you like it or not, Mike, as cheesy as it sounds, we are in this battle against darkness together. I know we might like to believe that we've seen the last of Norman Bridewell, but the reality is we haven't. He'll be back or worse will come in his place. We can't be dividing our strengths by trying to lay blame where it doesn't belong."

"Vicki, you don't know—"

She laid on Mike's tense arm, quieting him. Only then did she look at Henry, relieved to see his eyes faded back to their heart stopping green. "I know," she said. Her voice was low, almost a growl, but it was no less sincere. She did know, she had seen, she just wasn't up to acknowledging it. "But this is neither the time nor the place. I need you to take Coreen home, Mike. Make sure she's okay."

Having felt forgotten for a moment in the drama that was playing out before her, Coreen started. Looking from Mike to Henry, guilt washed over her. When she had come down the stairs after telling Vicki exactly what she had told Mike, she had seen the look on Mike's face, read too easily what he had been about to do. Not that it would have done much good, but the fact that he'd been about to draw on Henry told her how much she was responsible for his feelings. Still feeling raw from Norman's threats on her life, she didn't think she was up to handling Mike's suppressed rage. "Vicki, I'm fine. You don't have to worry about me."

Turning slowly, careful not ramp up the headache to match the ache in her body, Vicki raised her gaze up to the young woman who had come to mean quite a lot to her. Like a baby sister or a whacky girl friend. How long has it been since she has had that? "Coreen, you have been through a lot, kidnapping, assault, threats upon your life, hell, upon your very soul, and not for the first time. It takes it toll, believe me. I have seen enough of the post trauma to know exactly how this plays out."

"But—"

Cutting her off, Vicki shook her head. "No buts. Go home, or better yet, have Mike take you to a friend's house or a family member's." She lowered her voice so that her next words reached only Coreen, but Henry heard them nonetheless. "Go be with someone whom you trust to hold you when you break down and cry, Coreen. Take advantage of that and hold on to them like there's no tomorrow." Her voice cracked and when she met Coreen's dark eyes, she knew the girl was both listening and understanding what she was talking about. "Don't come in until you're ready. Call me, leave a message. Let me know."

Coreen swallowed. "What about you?"

"I'll be fine."

"Yes, you will," agreed Henry as he slipped his hand proprietarily beneath her elbow.

"Vicki," began Mike.

"Mike, don't. I'll be fine. Just see to Coreen, okay?"

Gnashing his teeth, feeling as if his jaw was set to permanent ache from the abuse, Mike relented. He didn't want to fight in front of Fitzroy, hell, he didn't even want to fight with Vicki. He knew damn well his relationship with her was teetering on the edge of becoming a thing of the past and nothing more. It was that threat that cut him deep. "I'll call you in the morning," he warned.

Vicki shrugged then winced as the motion increased the ache across her upper back and neck.

"You do that, Celucci, but make certain it's not before noon."

Mike bristled instantly. "And what's it too you when I call, Fitzroy? You're not her—"

Unwilling to listen to another word, another unveiled accusation, another ounce of intolerance from a man she had thought better than that, Vicki turned away. "Henry," she said quietly, uncaring of how her behavior might seem. "Take me home. Please."

"Of course." Schooling his face to impassiveness, Henry allowed himself only a mental smirk and a silent, but childish _so there! _He knew it was beneath him, but it soothed him almost as much as being able to walk away with Vicki in his hold and Mike looking on.

Settling herself into the passenger side of the Jag, Vicki closed her eyes as Henry fastened the seatbelt around her and shut the door. The softness of his touch, however, lingered, sending a rush of heat curling down to her toes. As she waited for him to join her, she listened for the slamming of Mike's car door ahead of them. Seconds later, the low growl of his engine started up. All too soon, and then again not soon enough, the sound faded as he and Coreen left the scene. It was then that she became aware of the course texture beneath the palm of her left hand. Prying open her eyes, she looked down. Though the interior of the car was flooded with shadow, she knew it was Norman's spell book sitting between her and the driver's seat. The brittle texture scratched at her palm. Inside her head, his voice whispered it chilling promise. _"You're the doorway, Vickie."_ She shuddered at the idea of there being no sight of peace in her future. Will this ever end? Somehow she just couldn't see it and the futility brought a wave of tears to her eyes.

"It will end." Henry said softly as he removed the book between them, setting it carefully in the back seat.

Vicki started. She hadn't even heard him get in, let alone heard herself speak aloud.

"I just can't promise how or when." Glancing quickly in her direction, Henry started the car. "But I can promise I will be there with you when it happens."

Fists curling against her thigh, Vicki fought the fear binding the words to her heart.

Sensing her turmoil, Henry's right hand drifted from the steering wheel and slid beneath hers. Slowly, masterfully, he opened her hand until her fingers were entwined with his. With the lightest of touches, he stroked his thumb across the tender flesh at the base of her thumb. Wrist to wrist, he felt her pulse as if it beat within him. It was a very erotic sensation, one that had him growing hard. But he did not push her. He said nothing, but gave everything in that silence, in his touch. He only hoped it was enough.

In the quiet Vicki sighed. "I know what you're doing."

"Really?"

"Hmmm. You're trying to wear me down."

A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Is it working?"

Vicki opened her eyes. All around her the street lights were washed together in a kaleidoscope of blurred lights. Allowing her hand to remain secure in his cooler palm, she shifted on her hip. Bracing her back against the car door, she faced him. His profile was not much more than a shadow of lines, but her memory filled in the contours; the high cheekbones, the square chin with its well defined cleft, the wave of his silken hair, the perfect fullness of his lips. With absolute clarity she recalled how it had felt to have those lips moving beneath hers, to have the taste of him on her tongue even as the taste of her brought him comfort, healing, and life. Had it only been a few short hours ago? It seemed a lifetime, yet what was a lifetime when compared to all those he has lived through?

"How do you do it, Henry?" She asked softly.

A smile came and went in the darkness. "Is this one of those trick questions where I had better come up with the right answer or have certain vital body parts rearranged?"

Unwillingly, Vicki chuckled. "I doubt you'd let any one get close enough to do that."

"I would let you, would welcome it." He replied on a rough note. "You tie me up in knots, Victoria. The thought of you, the scent of you…"

The tone of his voice sent heat dark and wicked spiraling through her body. Moisture built at the core of her. Her breasts tingled and a warm flush rose up her throat and flooded her cheeks. Throat growing dry, Vicki swallowed. The sound seemed loud in the quiet confines of his car. But old habits die hard, and she was not yet ready to give in to what her heart yearned for. "You're trying to distract me. That's not what I meant."

Scenting her rising desire, feeling his own growing in response to the heady perfume she was now exuding, Henry struggled to keep his tone light. "What did you mean?"

"How do you reach out when you know in the end you will wind up hurting?"

Heart leaping in his chest, Henry tightened his one handed grip on the wheel. Of all the questions he imagined her asking him, this was not the one. Of course, he also imagined having this kind of conversation in a place more conducive to exploring deeper connections. It was just like Vicki to blindside him with the unexpected. Still, he was hardly going to waste the opportunity. She was talking to him, with him, on a level that had little to do with solving a new case. "Because," he answered quietly, his eyes dark with sincerity. "The rewards of having loved are what sustain me in my solitude. They are my comforts, Vicki, but they are few."

"You could do better."

"Than you?"

Vicki gave a single short nod.

"You underestimate yourself."

"I am very flawed."

"Perfection is boring."

Vicki groaned, though her mouth was turned up in silent laughter. "We're not going to get into a battle of homilies, are we?"

"As long as we get to kiss and make up in the end, does it matter?" asked Henry as he pulled up in front of Vicki's apartment building. With quick efficiency, he slid the gear into park and turned off the ignition, plunging them into a cocoon of silence. Bracing his left arm across the steering wheel, he twisted to face her, a smile playing about his lips. "Wanna neck?"

For a long second, Vicki stared at him in open mouthed surprise. Laughter bubbled up inside her and she found she could not contain it. "Wanna neck?" She asked. By the light of the streetlamp at the front of the car, she tilted her head to the side, exposing the her vein. "Or do you mean wanna neck?"

Henry laughed. He couldn't help himself and it was strange, for he could not remember the last time he had made such a sound.

Vicki blinked and smiled. "I don't think I've heard you laugh."

"I'm afraid it's been a very long time." Henry replied with surprise.

"You should do it more often."

"Another cliché?"

"An honest observation."

Henry nodded. "Since we're being honest here, I have to say that there is not much time left of this night."

"I know." She made an attempt to pull her hand from his, but he would not let go. "I should go inside."

He lifted her hand to his lips, brushing the softest of kisses over her bruised knuckles. "I would like to come with you."

Flustered, wanting the same, but feeling the old fears rise up and trap her, she hesitated. "I can take care of myself, you know. Been doing it a long time now."

"And you've done a terrific job, but this isn't about what you can do, but I what I need. Can you give me that, Vicki?"

Vicki drew a breath. "What do you…need, exactly?" She whispered.

Henry gave a short soft laugh, caressing his cheek with the hand he still held. "The night is too short to list them all, but I will settle for seeing to your care and comfort."

Vicki blinked. It was not what she was expecting. "My comfort? That's all?"

"For now."

Swimming between disappointment and relief, Vicki found herself nodding. Really, how intense could walking her to her door get?

"Yes?" confirmed Henry.

"Yes."

Elation filled him, like the high of victory on the battlefield. In a breath he was out of the car and to the other side. Giving her no moment to change her mind, Henry reached a hand toward her, lifting her with ease, taking her weight just in that one touch, but leaving her pride intact. Vicki was all about pride, but Henry was about to take advantage of weakness. After all, it was what a warrior prince was trained to do.

"Bridewell's horde," gasped Vicki, surprised and ashamed she had almost forgotten, especially after having given Mike the speech about having a care that it wasn't really over.

"Will be safe for the time being," said Henry as he closed the door.

Vicki eyed him skeptically. "Henry, this is a Jag, a temptation in any neighborhood."

Keeping his hand on the car, Henry urged her with a silent nod to watch. A frown dropping her brows low over her eyes, Vicki squinted in the poor streetlight. At first she saw nothing different than the blur of pale fingers capable of dealing death and passionate heat upon the black glistening surface of the car door. Just as she was about to ask him what it was she was supposed to be looking at, she saw a brighter glow begin under his palm. A whisper of a voice, his voice, speaking words she could not understand, brushed against her ears. Then as it began, it was quickly over.

She looked at him, surprise clear in her large eyes. "Magic? I thought you hated magic."

"White magic, confirmed Henry. "The power of protection."

Vicki eyed him carefully. "I am beginning to understand there is a great deal about you I have refused to see."

Henry returned her gaze. "It's easy to see only what you want to see when you're afraid."

"It makes me no better than Mike."

Henry tightened his hold on her, tucked her against his side and started toward her door. "Hardly." As he reached the front entry to the building, he mentally commanded the lock to release, guiding her in before she even noticed. Their footsteps were quiet, singular on the hardwood floor. When he gained her apartment door, Vicki stopped, but before she could speak, he grasped the door handle and let her in.

Nerves jangling, alarm bells sounding inside her head, Vicki turned. Her plan to put control back into her hand faltered at Henry's soft smile.

"Your comfort," he reminded her. "My need." Raising his hand, he gently traced the line of her cheek down past her jaw, brushing aside the curling length of her hair. As sensitive as his fingertips were, he felt the rising heat of her blush long before he saw its soft color warm her skin. Slowly, his gaze never leaving hers, he leaned forward to finally fit his lips against her own.

Soft satin, sweet temptation, her sigh filled his mouth and set every nerve in his body soaring. His other hand came up to frame her face, to hold her captive, as he deepened the touch, parting her lips and sliding his tongue within the moist heat of her mouth.

Divine pleasure was not something Vicki would have placed into her landscape of vocabulary or experience, but at this moment, those were the only two words rattling around in her brain. At first she could only remain frozen in the smashing wave of sensations coursing through her body. It was like a cascade of fine crystal ice suddenly flaring to shards of spine tingling heat from her scalp to her toes and back, centering deep in her womb. Her heart stuttered. Her breath rushed from her lungs, being carried into his as if he needed it more than she. His long fingers, capable of such violence, gentled her face, held her still for this sweet onslaught, but as her body awakened, as she moved to embrace him, to hold him to her, he moved back. 'My need," he whispered hoarsely, resting his forehead lightly against hers. His eyes were black. He knew this with a certainty. His fangs ached to erupt, but with the will of centuries, he held them back. Shuddering, he allowed his fingers to fall. "Your comfort." The first step he took away from her was difficult. The hard on he carried protested the confines of his pants, his stomach nearly cramped with the Hunger, but he was determined to show her the truth of his words. This was not about him, but about her. In quick, controlled, human movements, he left her standing in her entry and headed for her bathroom. Flicking on the light, he quickly went about drawing her a very hot bath. As the water ran, he picked up a large brown bottle sitting on the ledge of the tub. _Bergamot, Rose, and Lavender_ the label read. Perfect. With efficient motion, he flicked open the top and poured a generous amount of the oils into the churning water. Next he started on the few candles scattered about the small room. With a single whispered command, their wicks flamed.

"It works better if you're undressed," he said as he bent to test the temperature of the water. A billow of heavily scented steam rose up. Breathing deeply the familiar herbs, he slowly straightened.

"Good thing, that," murmured Vicki as she lifted her naked leg and stepped into the awaiting water.

Hardly daring to breath again, Henry kept his gaze low, allowing it to travel over every inch of bared curving flesh as she submerged herself into the soothing waters. Supple thigh, the gentle curve of a hip, a tight tucked in waist, the crook of her elbow hindering his view of her perfect breasts. Her lack of inhibitions surprised and pleased him and he let loose a low rolling growl of approval as she lay back against the tub, watching his reaction as her rose colored nipples crested the lapping ripples of the scented water. Desire, deep and hard brought him to his knees and with all honesty of her power over him written on his face, he laid a near fevered brow onto the cool surface of the bath.

"Henry."

Her voice was soft, deep, filled with yearning he dared not answer. He was too close; to her blood, to the need to lose himself inside her tight sheath, to sink his teeth deep and taste the truth of all she was. He wanted to bind her to him so tightly that neither of them would know where one ended and the other began. He could see it in his head, feel every surge of their joined bodies, taste every flavor that was her and him together.

"I have to leave," he confessed with a gasp.

"Dawn is still an hour away," Vicki protested.

He raised his gaze to her face. "I need to feed, Vicki."

Drawn by the dark desire in his face, the stark hunger in his voice, Vicki raised her arm.

He captured it, licked the water from the satin of her skin, hesitated over the hard rhythmic beat of her pulse. "No." Gently, reverently, he laid her arm back into the soothing comfort of the bath.

Disbelief tore a gasp from Vicki's throat.

Henry, knowing exactly where her mind just went, hastened to explain. "Shhh, it's not what you think."

Lying in liquid sensuality, bathed in the warmth of candlelight, and engulfed in the heady scent of her own bath oils, Vicki struggled to keep her defensive sarcasm from jumping to her mouth. It was just her look to have such a perfectly romantic moment ruined. Queen of bad timing that was her; Vicki Nelson, woman. "Then tell me what it is, Henry, because I remember the last time you denied what I offered, and I can tell you I didn't like how that made me feel."

"I was angry then."

"And you're not now?"

"I am starving."

Vicki frowned. "I don't understand. You fed last night. Didn't you tell me you could go without taking blood for a day or two?"

Black eyes unwavering, Henry confessed. "I didn't feed."

"But—"

"I couldn't." He gave a short, unamused laugh. "It's never happened to me before."

Before she could help herself, Vicki smiled. Happiness threatened to bubble over, but she managed, just barely to hold onto the laughter. "Performance issues?"

Bristling with pride, Henry looked down his aristocratic nose. "Hardly….Yes, but it has left me with a problem."

"I can imagine."

A flash of a smile in candlelight reassured her.

Trailing a hand through the water, following the line of her supple arm to the curve where shoulder and neck met, Henry paused. "I want you to understand, Vicki, I will not take from you anything less than what you offer in passion, not compassion. I tell you I am hungry, but I do not say it out of any expectation for you to feed me as a mother would a child. I can find my food, take my sustenance and in thankful return, I will offer the memories of pleasure. It is the least I can do for the theft of someone else's life force. Memories, Victoria. Do you understand?"

Oh, boy, did she understand. He was at last promising something she could live with. He was committing his emotional needs and desires to her and her alone. "That's…." She licked her lips and tried again. "That's, uhhh…."

Henry smiled. "Scares the hell right out of you, doesn't it?"

"Right down to my toes," she admitted with a smile.

"I'm right there with you, you know."

"Good to know I'm not alone in this."

He captured a trailing curl and tugged.

Reading the signal, Vicki leaned closer until their lips were scarcely a breath apart.

"Never alone," murmured Henry as he placed one more kiss upon her wet lips. Then with a long sigh, he pushed himself up and away. "I will come to you tomorrow night."

"Be prepared to take me to dinner," she warned.

"Anywhere you like."

She smiled. "Promise?"

"Absolutely."

"Then sweet dreams, Henry."

"I wish I could," said Henry on a sigh.

"You don't dream?"

He shook his head, his hair brushing against his collar.

Vicki's eyes warmed. "Then I'll dream for us both."

A smile spread across his full lips. "As long as it doesn't conjure our incubus friend."

A/N: There could be more, should anyone be interested. Let me know. I'm working in new territory here, so your honest insight and suggested would be much appreciated.


	3. Chapter 3

CONTINUITY: Part 3 When All Hell Threatens

DISCLAIMER: Unfortunately, I hold no rights to these wonderful characters created by Tanya Huff and the production crew of Blood Ties. Insight Film Studios. Peter Mohan

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry to have left everyone hanging with the incubus, but the characters suddenly went silent. Now, however, they are once again doing their song and dance inside my head, demanding that I get everything down just the way they want it. What can a writer do? We are after all only slaves to the voices and visions cluttering our minds like bats in the belfry. Sorry Henry.

XXXXXXX

Vicki never heard the office door open or close, but she knew the exact moment when Henry was gone. Used to feeling him when he drew near, like a singular deep note resonating low and constant just beneath her skin, this was the first time she felt the absolute absence of him. It was like something within her had been on the verge of wakening, yet now with the light no longer there to coax it into the open, it faltered. The poignant sensation drew a melody from her memory; a sweet yearning song that, once she had heard it, she had never been able to let it go. In the blurred glow of the candlelight, she allowed the song to play inside her head…

_Once_

_You dreamed of me_

_Twice._

_You wished that I'd _

_Pull _

_You out._

_You chose your life_

_And pulled me down_

_Still you don't understand…_

_Hey…Ahhh_

_Tired of being alone_

_Hey….Ahhh…._

_What you have dreamed_

_Is not what I am_

_So far_

_Let me be the one_

_Please understand me_

_How I am_

_But I don't want_

_To walk alone_

_I need your hands to warm my soul._

_Tired of being alone_

_Hey…Ahhh.._

_Tired of being alone…_

_Hey…Ahhh…_

_I will do my best_

_To become your love_

_I'll try_

_To fill the emptiness_

_In our hearts_

_Also tired of being alone._

_Tired of being alone…_

_I want to feel_

_I need to fall in love with you._

_Tired of being alone…._

_Hey….Ahhh._

_Tarja Turenen "Tired of Being Alone"_

But alone was what she was used to and the fact that she was even contemplating letting someone in scared the Hell right back into her. Ignore it. Push it aside and focus on something else, that was what she should do, what she had always done in the past, but having acknowledged the truth to Norman's copy of Henry, having said it aloud made it impossible to tuck it back inside. She would regret not taking a chance, and if it was one thing she did not want cluttering up her chaotic life was the additional tangled web of regret. It held no purpose other than to tie a person in knots and she was tired of the knots which had grown so tight about her life.

To ease the ache which tightened in her chest, Vicki slid her body deeper into the soothing warmth of the bath. What was she going to do? She knew what she wanted to do, stop resisting, stop fighting, succumb to the dark desire she saw in Henry's clear blue eyes. But was she ready to take on the responsibility of someone else's happiness, when she found it damn near impossible to be responsible for her own? It was enough to send her into a mild anxiety attack.

Was she?

Oh, lord…Her hand slid up her body to rest against her heart as if she could ease the tight ache. As she did, cooling waters released the sweet fragrance of roses and lavender which she had always found soothing. Closing her eyes, she searched within her heart for answers only to realize for the first time, she did not trust herself to make the right choice. Her comfort zone, everything she had always based her certainties on was crumbling to dust within her. This wasn't love, she thought with panic. This was worse and more.

Love she'd had with Mike; a deeper than friends connection based on common ground and physical attraction. With Mike she knew where he stood. He accepted her flaws, allowed her to take the lead in everything they did because he accepted that need in her to do so. He never pushed, always backed off when she drew the line. Their physical relationship had been very satisfactory. His tall lean body beneath those impeccable suits and designer ties would make any girl melt. His broad shoulders had been wonderful buffers against the world at times. His boyish smiles had charmed her from the first day they met. But when she had gotten the news about her eyes, the world fell out from under them both. For the first time in her life, she came up against something that seemed stronger than her. Along with the harsh inevitability of blindness ironically the blinders came off.

Oh, man, she could still hear his voice bouncing loudly off the walls of his apartment the day she had told him the news.

"Goddamn it!" He shouted throwing his arms wildly through the air.

"I have to quit," she said quietly. The words nearly broke her. Standing in the middle of his living room, her arms wrapped around herself to stave off the chill that seemed to have set into her very bones since she had gotten the news three days ago. "I can't be less than—"

"No! You can't leave. Being a cop is everything to you. It's who you are!"

Vicki blinked. "Who I am? No, Mike. Being a cop is what I do and I'm damn good at it, but it's not who I am."

But Mike wasn't listening. For once, when she needed him to be the strong one in their twosome, he wasn't capable…no doubt because she had never showed him how. "You can stay with the force, Vicki! Take a desk! You'll still be a cop! You're insane to throw it all away!'

With foresight spinning ahead of her, Vicki saw a dozen different scenarios play out if she followed Mike's desire, but the ending was all the same. Misery; for her, for Mike, and perhaps too the people she worked with. She knew herself. She knew she couldn't accept less than a hundred and ten percent from herself for her job and tied to a desk would effectively tie her hands and brain from ever being able to work a case again. No, it was better for all around if she left.

Ignoring Mike's tirade, knowing it would be pointless to even respond, she turned and headed for the door.

When he saw her moving, Mike stepped in front to block her way. "Where are you going?"

"Home."

"Why?"

She sighed. "It's for the best."

"The best for whom? You?"

She looked at him through the blur of medicated eyes. "Tell me, Mike, what bothers you more? Me quitting the force…"

"Of course it bothers me.—"

"Or me quitting you?" She finished as if he never spoke.

Shocked, Mike stepped back. "Quitting me? Why?"

"Because when the woman you are supposed to love tells you she's going blind you are supposed to take her in your arms and hold her tight and tell her things will work out. Instead you told me I can't be anything more than a cop and yelled at me for quitting my job. Good bye, Mike. Hope your next partner doesn't disappoint."

She hadn't heard from in nearly a year. It took a demon to bring him back into the circle of her life. Sure her body, which had not felt the heat of a man's touch, remembered his and reacted at inopportune times, but that was all it was. He didn't love her, not the way a woman deep down wants to be loved no matter what she may say to the contrary about the emotion. He just didn't want anyone else to have the opportunity to her either.

Especially a man as enigmatic and strong as Henry Fitzroy who threatened the very foundations of Mike's faith in both himself as a man and a God-fearing cop.

She sighed. And so she was right back where she started in this circle of thoughts. She almost laughed, when she recalled one of the things she had said to him while pounding martinis. 'It always has to come back to you, doesn't it?"

"This could be your fate, Vicki," he had replied with a boyish smile.

Recalling that smile and many others he had shared with her, made her womb tighten. Henry's smiles inspired so many different sensations within her. Devilish, knowing, playful, they were like chocolate to an addict; alluring and irresistible when offered. His body, with its eternal youthful perfection, its secret strength and animal grace so completely opposite Mike's, was the center of some very fanciful, core melting dreams. The memory of touching his velvet flesh lived in her fingertips and set a fire rushing through her body. Henry didn't back off. He challenged her, encouraged her, seduced her. Every subtle word, every yearning look, they dared her to step out and meet him half way…Half way to heaven or hell, she couldn't be certain. She knew it wasn't love knocking on that secret place she kept buried away from everyone. It was her own soul banging around inside her recognizing its other half and howling its pain because she still refused to set it free to meet it.

Vicki gasped, the hand above her heart now tightening to a fist. Her soul…Oh, Lord, she was in very big trouble.

Deciding to end the self indulgence of both her bath and her thoughts, feeling like any moment she was literally going to jump out of her skin and run howling beneath the moon, she flicked the stopper with her big toe and rose. Her movements impatient, she yanked a rose colored towel from the rack on the wall and began roughly rubbing down every inch of her body until her skin stung. As the last of the water drained away, she stepped from the tub and began blowing out the candles set near the sink and the shelf above the toilet. In seconds, the room was plunged into darkness and the heavy fragrance of wax and burnt wicks.

Refusing to turn on a light, she moved to the next room with measured steps. She couldn't see worth shite at the moment, but that was just fine with her. It was her home, she knew where things were…

"Ouch! Damn!" Stretching out a fumbling hand, Vicki felt along the wall until she came to the light switch.

"Oh."

And just like that, she was once again soothed. His need

Her comfort.

Her sofa bed was open, the plum colored sheets and wine colored comforter invitingly pulled back and ready for her to slip inside. Four pillows of varying size had been fluffed and arranged for the comfort of her head and upon them her favorite gray tank shirt with the cream colored narrow band of lace edging the neck and satin ribbon straps alongside a pair of well worn gray sweatpants. Comfort clothes.

Sighing, she dropped the towel and slid them on. A minute later the light was out, and though dawn was just creeping over the Toronto skyline, chasing the darkness into a soft sunrise salmon swirl of colors, Vicki was laying her head upon her pillows and closing her eyes.

XXXXXXX

She moved with sensual catlike grace up the shadowed stairwell, the soft swell of her hips tightly encased in black velvet swaying with inviting heat. The heels of her black Alberto Fermani boots rang with a definite snap against the worn wood steps. Making every effort to have no part of her body come in contact with such cheap and rotting architecture, she kept her black lace covered arms tucked close against her burgundy taffeta lace-up bodice. When she reached the top, she spared only a glance toward the ratty mish-mash of furniture and boxes placed about the living room area. What concerned her was the back room beyond the open sliding doors.

Behind her, small and insignificant in her drab jean's and t-shirt apparel, twelve year old Alice Dupont, made her way in silence. Child-like in her movements, she didn't even hold a candle to the mortal beauty of the woman in front of her, and neither did she want to. The human shell she occupied was no more attractive to her than any other meat bag she had encountered her minion walked. Give her green flesh and sharp black flames with deep burning burning eyes and she would pause to appreciate the kindness of the Dark Lord in its creation. Human flesh was for eating or maiming, not for a demon with her strength and skill to occupy.

Curse the she-bitch who had ensorcelled her into this compact frame! May the hounds of hell tear the flesh from her bones for all eternity!

Unaware of her minion's contempt, the woman paused at the sliding door, her gaze focused on a narrow door the color of dying summertime grass with the number twenty-seven painted above a blood stained nail. Breathing deep, her blood red lips lifted in a smile as the scents of black magic and Henry Fitzroy filled her lungs. No one smelled quiet like the five hundred year old vampire. His was a unique fragrance of sweet earth, and darkness mingled with something she had yet to put a name to.

"Henry," she whispered with affection. Blood red fingernails flicked the nail marked with his blood. "I tried to warn you, my love."

Turning from the door, she approached the empty altar. Her smile wavered as she caught the scent of the other who had been in Henry's company. She had trusted the demon to fail in his quest to appease Asteroth. Henry was too smart, too righteous to have allowed a fledgling demon the upper hand. Still, she had hoped Norman would have at least eliminated her one rival; Vicki Nelson. Disgusted, she kicked at a toppled black candle, sending it skittering across the pentagram to land up against the wall on the other side.

"Will you be using it again?" asked a small voice behind her.

Long black hair rippled over her shoulders as she shook her head. "This one is weak, an amateur's attempt. I will use my own." She answered without turning.

"You want me to cleanse it?"

Eyes drifting over the room, she made certain there was nothing here she could not take for herself before giving her consent to its destruction. Spinning on her spiked heels, her black leather skirt stretching over her taut buttocks, Sinead eyed her minion; a sweet child of twelve with pale blonde hair and pretty green eyes.

"Burn it to the ground," she instructed Alice.

Without a smile that was in no way human, the girl raised her hands. There was the crackling of energy, a surge of power, then a heat wave pulsed outward from her slight body, rippling past Sinead without harm. As it hit the wall, flames erupted and quickly spread.

Sighing her satisfaction, Sinead headed for the back set of stairs and the alley they led into. Behind her, Alice continued to call upon her terrible nature until all that remained was raging flames and ash.

XXXXXXX

Ringing, sharp, loud, and annoying dragged her from the sweet darkness of oblivion. With a loud groan, Vicki curled her body away from the sound, pulling the blankets high over her head. She had no idea when the ringing stopped, but the silence settling over her humble abode lured her gently back into the comfort of sleep.

It wasn't long, however, before the heady aroma of strong coffee and sugary confections pulled her back. This time, she cracked her puffy lids and struggled to find the source of such early morning torture.

"Ahhh, 'bout time, sunshine." Mocked a familiar voice.

"Mike," she croaked around a dry throat. Turning her head, she caught the hazy outline of six foot four male model perfection standing next to her nightstand. "Is that coffee?"

"And sweet rolls. I wouldn't dare wake you up at…" Mike checked his watch. "Noon sharp without it."

"Noon!" She hadn't really intended to sleep that long. Scrambling up into a sitting position, she took the offered cup of coffee from Mike's extended hand. Knowing he would have added the perfect amount of sugar and cream, she took a testing sip. "Ahhh…" Over the steam, she looked at him and every thought that had raced through her head last night slammed right back into brain. She sighed. "Did you get Coreen home okay?"

"I dropped her off at a friend's house."

"Good. Good. So you're here because…?" She looked at him and knew the answer by the way his eyes drifted away from her. "You're checking up on me." She gave him a look that dared him to deny it.

Stiffening his spine, Mike refused to back down. He had debated with himself all night and half the day. He had chewed his tie, sat and wrote reports all morning….something he hated, so he wouldn't come running over here first thing. But when she hadn't picked up the phone that had been the final straw. "Of course, I came…"

Vicki cut him off with the hand, but she didn't raise her voice. "Mike, be honest. Is it because you care about me? Because here's the deal. I am finding it really difficult to believe you can care about someone you don't trust." Calmly, she took a second sip of coffee.

Mike frowned. Where was the anger, the smart remarks? This quietness was seriously settling against him in a very wrong way. "What are you saying, Vic? That I don't trust you?"  
Vicki shrugged and slipped her legs over the side of her bed.

"I trust you."

"Really?" She moved to her desk and sat her coffee carefully beside the phone. "What is it that you trust about me, hmmm? Would you trust me with your life?"

Mike blinked and backed away. The question stunned him.

She picked up her glasses and slid them on. "Well? Do you trust me with your life? If we were out on a case you and I, would you trust me to have your back?"

"Vicki' that's not fair?"

"Life's not fair."

Mike watched her as she moved around the room to the bay of windows. With an efficient flick of her demon scarred wrist, she had the slats turned to admit the afternoon sunlight through. Seeing them, made chill bumps skitter up his spine. "How's your hand?" He asked; anything to avoid the truth.

She turned the palm in question, eyed it with something that strangely to Mike's mind seemed like affection then walked toward him with it upraised. Instinctively Mike took hold of her wrist and turned the hand face up to his examining gaze. When he found no wound, not even a hint of an injury on the palm, he shook his head. "Your other hand," he said with indulgence.

Vicki smiled and raised her left hand and smiled.

Mike gripped it tightly, shock registering on his face. "Vicki?"

She tugged her hands away. "Do you trust me, Mike?"

A deep cold settled over his heart, turning his flesh clammy. His breathing grew harsh as he searched his former lover's familiar eyes. He didn't know what he was looking for, but he'd seen that Demon cut her, seen the blood run into the chalice. Then it hit him. Fitzroy. A low growl settled in his throat and he reached for Vicki again, this time taking her tightly by the shoulders. "It's that bastard vampire! He's done something to you…Changed you!"

Without warning, Vicki exploded into action. Efficient and deadly even without her asp, she had Mike on the his back before he could take another breath. Back teeth gnashing, she twisted the arm she held in her grip and pressed down with her bare foot against Mike's neck. "And if he had, Mike, would you want me dead too? Would you call me monster?"

"No!"

Vicki snorted. "Why? How would I be any different than Henry?"

"Because I know you!" Mike gasped out. "Oh, God tell me he didn't change you…"

Dropping Mike's arm, she pointed at the window. "Daylight, you jerk."

Mike felt the flush of humiliation rise up his neck and flood his cheeks with ugly color. He cautiously moved to sit up, but not to stand. He didn't put it past her to lay him out again.

"Do you believe that just because I am losing my sight, I am blind to what Henry is?" Vicki continued.

"He's…he's not human!" Mike gasped out.

Staring down at Mike's face, Vicki felt the sudden flash of anger drain away in the face of Mike's unspoken fear. "Oh, Mike, you don't get it, do you?"

"Get what?" He asked darkly as he rubbed at his nearly dislocated shoulder. "Explain it to me."

"Where do I start?"

"At the beginning?" suggested Mike. And to encourage her, he shifted and patted the floor beside him. It was a moment that felt familiar. There were many times when he and Vicki had found themselves sitting side by side on the floor; some times looking over crime scene photos, sometimes sitting in front of the fireplace with a glass of wine…

Vicki swallowed. "At an ending," she said looking Mike straight in the eyes.

A pain sliced through Mike's chest. "Don't do this, Vicki."

"I have to."

"Why?"

"Because I loved you, Mike, and I can't stand that you're hurting, hurting without reason."

Mike winced. "Loved?"

"I know when I left you, left the force, you felt I left things unfinished, but Mike the one thing you never understood, that I did, was that I could never live a life sitting on the sidelines. I'm not cut out that way."

"Like you have a life now? Chasing the supernatural?"

Vicki stiffened. "I solve crimes, Mike. I help people heal from emotional trauma by giving them insight to lost love ones. I fight to protect those who can't protect themselves. I still give a voice to the dead, Mike, but I do it now on my terms not Crowly's or anybody else's."

"You fight demons! You keep the company of a man who steals blood from living breathing people in order to survive."

"We all fight demons, Mike. It's just that mine are a bit more obvious than the ones we carry inside us." Vicki said in gentle tones.

Mike blinked. He couldn't argue with her. Especially when she wasn't arguing back. "So that's it. I can't make you see reason? Change your mind?"

"You are the first best friend I have ever allowed myself to have, Mike. Our past intimacy aside, I would hate to lose that, but if I must…." Her voice trailed off and she raised a slender shoulder instead.

"You would trade that away for…" Mike bit his cheek and choked back the insult. "For Fitzroy?"

"No, you would trade it."

"What are you talking about?"

Sighing, Vicki got to her feet. "Think about it."

"That's it? Just like that?"

She walked to her closet and began pulling out clothes. "I have a lot to do today, Mike."

Mouth open, eyes wide, Mike watched her completely dismiss him from thought and sight as she disappeared into the privacy of her bathroom. He was stunned, flummoxed. He felt as if he were dangling from a cliff with only the rotten end of a tree root preventing him from plunging into a storm driven sea. It was a struggle to regain himself, to close his mouth and straighten his tie, but in the end, he removed himself from her room, her office, and perhaps even her life before she reemerged.

A/N: Anybody want any more? Also, thought it might be fun if a few of us got together and started a round-robin blood ties story. If you're interested, drop me a note and we'll try to get one organized. I think it would be fun! Also, it helps to sharpen our writing skills.


	4. Chapter 4

CONTINUITY: Part 4 When All Hell Threatens

DISCLAIMER: You all know the drill. I am not Tanya Huff or Peter Mohan, so sadly, I hold no financial claims to anything related to Blood Ties or the Vicki Nelson Series.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: As of this writing, 30 days to go, can we all wait that much longer?

HHHHHHHH

The minute Mike got into his car, his pager went off. Yanking it off his belt hook, he read the number on the screen, then reached for his cell attached to his left hip.

"Celluci." He barked. "What have you got?"

Listening to the voice on the other end, Mike felt his heart sink into his stomach. "Lunnigan…You're sure? Thanks….And Kate? For what it's worth, I'm sorry. Yeah, right back at you," he said with a tight laugh. Relief swept through him at Kate's teasing banter. After yesterday, he was certain he had lost that connection as well. "You have no idea. Yeah, I'll check it out. Great. Lunch on me. We'll see about that!" Closing his phone, he set it on the seat beside him and started the car. He thought a moment about going back inside, to let Vicki know that Bridewell's place was still in the forefront of evil activities, but some perverse part of him decided he didn't need to share with her any longer. He was certain she would find out sooner or later anyway. At least he would have the upper hand for just a moment.

Starting up his car, Mike pulled away from the curb, leaving behind what was left of his past.

HHHHHHH

"Vicki, it's Coreen. I…I'm just calling…"

Vicki grabbed the phone, disconnecting the answering machine. "Coreen."

"Vicki! Hi. How are you doing?"

Ahh, the question of the hour, thought Vicki to herself. "I'm fine. And you?"

"I'll be okay. I'll be in tomorrow."

Vicki frowned. "You sure?"

"Absolutely. I know what you're thinking, that I'm still in some kind of shock or denial, but I'm not," assured Coreen over the phone line.

Twisting the cord to the hand held device, Vicki fought the wave of relief that threatened to have her slumping into the chair behind her. "I'm glad to hear it. Nine o'clock?"

"If not earlier."

Vicki smiled. She would bet on the earlier.

"Have you…heard from Mike?"

Her smile turned to a dark frown.

"Vicki? You still there?"

"I'm here."

Coreen sighed. "He came by, didn't he?"

"He just left."

"I take it things didn't go well?"

Vicki glanced at her watch. "Say, I've got to get going. See you tomorrow?" From the tsk-ing sound on the other end, Vicki had no difficulty picturing Coreen rolling her eyes and shaking her head.

"You're going out?"

"I…have some things to do."

"What about Henry?"

At the very mention of his name, Vicki's heart thumped heavily against her ribs. She tightened her hold on the phone. "What about Henry?"

"Is he all right?"

Oh, he's more than all right, thought Vicki to herself. Out loud she said, "Oh, you know…Henry's Henry."

"He loves you."

Vicki choked. "He wants me." Now why on earth did she say that out loud?

Coreen laughed. "That too."

"Don't start with me, Coreen." Vicki warned, though the smile was back on her face.

"Fine. I won't. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow."

Dropping the phone back into its cradle, Vicki turned and picked up her kaki bag on the desk and the keys lying beside it. Outside, she heard the purr of her cab arriving. A quick check of her back pocket, assured her her cell phone was not lying somewhere forgotten in her sudden nervous haste. Slinging her bag strap over her shoulder, she left the office.

The afternoon sun was brilliant against her eyes, the sting reminding her clearly of Henry. Gasping, she reached for her cell. Punching 1 on the touch pad, she realized then, what she should have known sooner. Mike she had erased from her auto dial over a year ago and no-one, not even her mother had occupied that place until Henry. Listening to the automated voice message, she approached the cab. When the buzz for a message sounded, she reached the cab door. "Henry, I might be a bit late this evening. Don't come to the office. I'll come to you." She paused. The message sounded abrupt, impersonal even to her ears. She cleared her throat and tried again. "I know you're probably thinking I'm avoiding our…date, but in truth? I'm looking forward to it. I'll see you tonight, no matter how late."

Disconnecting, she ducked into the cab. "Union Station."

HHHHHHHH

"Man, you guys are quick!"

Closing his car door, Mike Celluci looked questioningly at the fire chief who had spoken. "What do you mean?"

A large man, made larger by the protective, smoke stained fire gear he wore, the chief never met his gaze. Instead he kept his eyes on his men and the dozens of other from two neighboring stations that had been called in to douse the blaze. "I just called it in."

Confused, Mike shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I'm not getting you, chief."

Gray eyes rimmed with sweat and smoke narrowed. "You mean you haven't gotten any calls about the body…or rather what's left of one?"

Mike's gut tightened. "Show me."

The chief nodded. "This way."

Feeling a terrible sense of déjà vu, Mike followed the man through the battered and dripping doorframe. How weird, he thought. Less than twelve hours ago these stairs had seemed nothing but worn and tired and in need of a good paint job. Now they were charred and cracked, derailing his confidence at their ability to support both his and the chief's combined weight. The cloying stench of wet smoke filled his lungs. Above the dripping of water, he heard the odd crunching sound of heated wood being soothed by the water it had been doused in. As he reached the top of the stairs, he recognized the remains of the cheap furniture and boxes which had once been stacked to the right. A ceiling beam lay broken in a blackened heap across the upper landing.

"Roof's still good on that side. Heat and smoke damage here. The majority of the damage is here, in this back room."

Mike's footsteps faltered.

"You okay?" asked the chief as noticed the detective's hesitancy.

"So the fire started here?"

"Damned fast and hot."

"Accelerant?"

"I've got a chem team working the remains. Probably won't find anything, though."

"Why?"

The chief shook his head. "Too hot. Like a controlled flash fire."

"Electrical?"

"Possible, but doubtful. I'll let you know when we find out more."

Mike nodded. "The body?"

"Through the doors, dead center in the room."

Following the main's pointing finger, Mike slowly walked through the broken door frame. As he crossed the threshold, his vision was momentarily confused by the sudden image of a Bridewell slicing through Vicki's palm; the palm that now held no evidence of being injured. So strong and real was the memory, he was almost disappointed when he found no swirling black hole in the center of the floor. Instead of red walls and green floors scarred with a black pentagram, Mike was greeted with a burnt shell of blackened disintegrating stone, blown out windows, an a rough circle of police tape marking out a two foot square area where Vicki had once stood. Careful where he put his feet, the floor feeling a bit crisp under each step, he drew close enough to see a pile of ash, a crumbled skeleton, and the white pebbles he knew were teeth.

For the second time that day, he had another flashback, this time to a young woman hanging in chains in the basement of an abandoned church. The sound of the scorched wood reminded him of her pain filled moans right before she went up in flames as the rays of dawn's light touched her tortured body. There had been a pile of ash too, ash, a heat shattered skull, and teeth.

Mike sighed. Please let this have been some poor homeless fool, he thought.

"Do you have any ideas, chief?"

"Initial guess? Judging be the spray pattern I'd normally say our arsonist…" He nodded to the ashes. "Got caught in his own party."

"But…?"

"No evidence of a flame thrower or any other kind of devise in the remains."

"A second arsonist?"

The chief shook his head. "The sliding doors were sealed from the inside and the stairwell was one of the first areas that was set. No way could a second arsonist have gotten out without winding up fried."

When the chief paused, Mike looked at him. It was obvious the man had more on his mind, but Mike wasn't sure he wanted to hear it. However, being the good cop he was, he couldn't help but ask the question. "What else?"

"It's weird, that's all. Just downright weird."

"Oh, no. NO. NO. NO. That is so what I didn't need to hear."

HHHHHH

"Mom?!" Vicki shouted as she walked through the side door and into her mother's cottage kitchen. The achingly familiar scent of apples and cinnamon welcomed her. A shrill shriek and the shattering of glass had her racing through the large room and into the wide open, sun bathed living room. Body tight and ready for battle, it took Vicki a moment to realize she wasn't coming on an intruder, but her mother and a gaggle of her garden club sisters meeting for tea and deserts.

"Victoria Nelson, you scared the living daylights out of me!" Her mother complained as she pushed back her floral embroidered chair. Dressed in a cream colored ankle length skirt and a pale pink blouse with pearl buttons and long sleeves edged in antique lace, she looked like something out of a Jane Austin novel. "Look what you made me do!"

Vicki bit her lip to keep from a more acerbic response. "Well, hello to you to, mom. Great to see you."

Her mother, a beautiful woman in her early sixties waved a graceful hand in her direction. "Oh, you know I'm always glad to see you. It's not like you show up on my door step every week!"

Before her mother could bend to pick up the broken tea cup she had dropped, Vicki was there. "Let me, mom. I'm the one that made you drop it."

Her mother sniffed in pretended affront. "Yes, you….Victoria Nelson, what on earth have you done to yourself!" With surprising swiftness and strength, the garden guru of Oshawa gripped her daughter's sleeveless arm.

Too late, Vicki realized her mistake. The day had been beautiful, warm, she hadn't thought to put on anything more than a short sleeve cotton tee when she dressed. Never considered covering up the tattoos which she felt no shame bearing. No, the only thing she had forgotten was that she had never told her mother.

"Oh, God!" Her mother turned quickly toward her friends with a painted on smile. "Excuse me a moment, will you?"

The five of them, like puppets on a single string, nodded, their pink painted cheeks growing pinker with the excitement of an impending disaster on the horizon.

Turning on her pink and green Vans, Vicki's mom pulled her quickly from the room and back into the kitchen. A quick and practiced kick at the door stop, had the swinging door falling closed with a whoosh and a clack as the bottom hinge temporarily stuck before grinding loose.

"Mom, will you stop?"

"Stop?" Her mother did stop, closer to the side door than the interior door. "Vicki, why? Why would you do such a thing?" Releasing her, Vicki's mom put a trembling hand to her chest and tried desperately to gain control of her stressed breathing.

Vicki watched, stunned and just a bit helpless. "Mom, what on earth is wrong?" She flipped her arms upwards, fully revealing the marks on both wrists. "They're just tattoos!" She said, trying to downplay any importance.

Her mother's eyes filled. Her pink lips trembled. "Just tattoos? Do you think me an idiot, Victoria Nelson?"

Vicki reached toward her, only to have her mother jump back, obviously terrified. Gasping, feeling as if someone had plunged a knife through her heart, Vicki dropped her arms. No way in the world would she have guessed this kind of welcome from the woman who gave up everything to raise her on her own. "Mom?"

"I can't believe you would do this to yourself…after everything we went through."

"Everything we went through….Mom, what are you talking about?"

As if Vicki hadn't said a thing, her mother turned and began fiddling nervously with the desert plates stacked on the counter. "I thought, perhaps you had forgotten it all, especially when you came up with that story about your father just leaving us."

"He did leave us. He walked out when I was six and he never came back."

"Oh, God. You don't remember and yet you did that!"

Feeling completely lost, Vicki walked up behind her mother. Gently, she guided her mother toward the small café table and chairs in the corner of the kitchen. "Sit, mom. Tell me what's going on."

Her mother sniffed and wiped at her tears with a lavender colored kerchief she had pulled from her pants pocket. Instead of sitting, however, she turned her body toward the side kitchen door and walked out.

"Is everything okay?" Asked a sweet voice from the inside doorway.

Torn between going after her mother and soothing her mother's gossip scrounging guests, Vicki paused. "Everything's fine. I just surprised her, that's all. She'll be back in just a few minutes, Mary Lynn."

Mary Lynn Flannery, Queen of Oshawa's Gossip Club for Seniors nodded and stepped back out. As the door swung shut, Vicki went after her mother.

She found the woman walking toward the huge oak tree standing dead center in the back yard. Vicki remembered the tree, the swing her father had built on the jutting lower branch, the picnics held with the three of them in its shade. Then she recalled why all that stopped. Frowning, she caught up to her mother's slim figure standing in the dappled shade. She was looking up, staring at the dark bark.

Confused, Vicki followed her gaze. Two or so feet above her head, blackened and ugly against the flesh of the tree, the familiar symbol of Asteroth had been burned.

A/N: And there you have it, another turn that I swear I had no idea about until Vicki decided she was going home to see her mom!


	5. Chapter 5

CONTINUITY: Part 5 When All Hell Threatens

DISCLAIMER: Ahh, do I have to?

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Please, I'm not responsible for this stuff…I'm just the vessel! God's truth! Don't shoot:o) (Yes, one of those was a quote from Ladyhawke! Another great love story!)

HHHHHHHHHH

Vicki's legs crumbled beneath her. Shock had her mind spinning into nonsense. Suddenly, strangely, she marveled at how soft the grass was beneath this old tree. How cool and soothing to her fingers, as she clutched at blades and damp soil in an effort to hold onto a world that was sliding quickly out of her grasp.

Chest aching with her harsh breathing, she dropped her head downward. She felt her mother's hands on her shoulders, smelled the sweet rose of her perfume. Her tear filled voice, however, seemed to come from a great distance. Like an echo fading, Vicki heard it, but for once in her life she had nothing to give. No act of bravery, no words of reassurance, no snappy come-backs, no answers.

How could this be? The question beat against her brain with the precision of a jack hammer. How could she have not known? How could her mother have kept this from her? How could her mother have let her believe Vicki's father had left because of her?

She was lost and at a loss to finding a way back.

A sob clenched her gut. She wrapped her arms around her middle, trying to hold herself together.

"Oh, Vicki, honey…"

A warm body dropped down beside her, gathered her close, held her, but it was not the touch she wanted, needed, and she resisted.

Henry. Oh, lord she needed to be held by him, needed his strength. Without question, he would give it. There would be no thought about having to give something in return. His comfort would be free and only he could hold at bay the terrible cold seeping into her soul. But he was not here, and like always, she had only herself to depend on.

Taking a breath then another, she started counting the beats of her heart vibrating against her chest. Seconds bled into minutes. Slowly she felt herself returning to the world. Someone opened the side door, called out then went away. Overhead, an airplane droned by on its way toward the airport. A breeze caressed her trying to soothe only to skitter away when it realized there was nothing that could be done for the heart that lay in shreds within her trembling body. Somehow she found the strength to form a thought, to use her voice.

"Do you…" Vicki swallowed, trying to get rid of the painful knot of fear at the base of her throat. "Do you know what it means?"

Drawing away from her daughter, Mrs. Nelson's gaze drifted upward. "They told me it was probably some kind of organized crime symbol."

The hesitant answer brought Vicki's head up. She felt life returning. "They who?"

Mrs. Nelson blinked. "Why the police! And your father's partner."

"Organized crime. Like the Mafia?"

"Well, yes, I suppose so."

Turning her arms until the pair of black scars stood heaven-up, Vicki eyed them. Her heart thundered in her ears. Her mother didn't know…Had no clue as to the truth. So great was her relief, Vicki nearly drowned in unexpected light headedness. Only her mother's continued words kept her from losing control.

"He was on a special task force, your father. His partner thought they'd been compromised. Marcus, that was your dad's partner, said someone on the inside leaked information about your father's undercover work. Your father was taken from us by someone from the organization they had been going after. He said they probably left that as some kind of warning."

Recalling all of Bridewell's victims, Vicki licked her suddenly dry lips. "Did they ever…?"

Her mother shook her head. "They never found his body. Marcus believed the head of the syndicate had threatened us, you and me. He thinks your father gave up his life in exchange for our security."

Vicki closed her eyes and rocked forward. In the darkness a memory sputtered to life; her mother in the kitchen talking with a man she could see only as a shadow without definition. It had been late, but she hadn't been able to sleep. There was something she couldn't' name drawing close, lurking outside, waiting. She had called out for her mother, called but it didn't seem like the sound of her voice could carry further than her bed. Frustrated, Vicki had left her room, determined to find out what was wrong.

She had stopped at her parent's room first, her bare feet making no sound in the carpeted hallway. The bedroom was dark, empty, and felt like no one had even been inside for quite some time. Sighing, she shuffled along toward the kitchen. She was a few feet from the door when, not voices, but a terrible cold, like an invisible wall, stopped her from getting any closer. From where she stood, she heard the rustling sound of clothing, the low sound of a man's voice, and smelled her mother's perfume.

"It's a crime symbol, nothing more."

The dark words deeply spoken rippled through her head, bounced inside her thoughts. Shivering, six year old Vicki leaned against the wall and listened to her mother's voice as she repeated the man's words.

"Nothing more."

"Your husband is gone, Mrs. Nelson. Take heart in believing he sacrificed himself for you and your daughter."

"He saved us."

"Yes."

Oh God, Vicki thought, her six year old memories catching up with her lifetime of experiences. The sensations were so familiar, she just couldn't connect them.

"You let me believe he left us." Vicki accused.

Her mother nodded. "It seemed easier than trying to explain vendettas to a six year old."

"But you knew I believed he left because of me! You could have told me…"

Her mother's shaking head, silenced Vicki's words. "Oh, honey, you know, even when you were that young, once you made up your mind no one could change it. Right or wrong, the world was as you decided it was going to be."

"What about when I got older? When I joined the Academy?"

"There seemed no point then. You were your father's daughter and I was proud of you. I didn't want you to go looking into trouble and lose you too."

Vicki's lips thinned at the answer. Why was everyone so bent on protecting her? Yeah, if she had known this story, she would have gone after the files, dug into the truth…

But would she have seen the truth? That pesky subconscious voice of hers asked.

Recalling the Vicki Nelson she had been before she left the force, Vicki had to honestly answer no. It was only now as she crossed through that unseen boundary keeping the rest of the world blind to what lives within it that she was able to recognize the symbol for what it really was.

Her mother gripped her arm, her slim fingers only inches from the black pentagram burned into her flesh. "You aren't going to…you know…mess with this, are you?"

Vicki felt her heart clench painfully within her chest. "It's been twenty-six years, mom. I doubt there would be anything to find."

Her mother let out a long sigh.

Her relief made Vicki want to cry.

"Have them removed, dear."

Vicki laughed. It was a short sound, ugly and bitter. "I wish I could."

"You can. They have special lasers for that sort of thing," encouraged Mrs. Nelson innocently. "If you like, I can look into a good dermatologist or plastic surgeon."

Vicki pattered her arm. "If it will make you feel better." She said. It didn't matter if she had told her mother know, the woman would have gone ahead and done it anyway. This way, however, at least the woman would have something other than husband material to look into. Climbing to her feet, she reached out and helped her mother up.

"You should probably go back inside."

Mrs. Nelson gasped. "Oh, the garden tea!" She turned in a panic toward the house, then stopped. "But what about you?"  
"I'll be fine." Vicki reassured her. "I should have called. I will the next time."

"Just as long as you don't wait 'til Christmas before you do."

Vicki smiled. "I won't mom. I promise."

"Good. Good."

As the older woman headed off to join her no doubt impatient group, Vicki turned toward the scarred tree. Reaching up, stretching on the tips of her toes, she traced the black mark, feeling the deep grooves, the oily texture. It was nearly identical to the one which named Asteroth as the demon bound to her flesh, but there were subtle differences. Taking out her camera, glad for once she never left home without it, she snapped a few images, checked their clarity then dropped it back in her bag. Turning to leave, she recalled why she had come to see her mother in the first place.

Oh, well, so much for having a mother daughter talk about her state of singleness.

And so much for having a quiet night with Henry.

Pulling her phone from her back pocket, she dialed him. There was no rest for the wicked, it seemed.

HHHHHHHHH


	6. Chapter 6

CONTINUITY: Part 6 When All Hell Threatens

DISCLAIMER: Check please! That's spelled P A S S I O N I N T R U T H… What do you mean you don't have me down on the payroll? Do I have ID? Will my medicare card do? Kidding :o). All rights reserved to Insight Film Studios, Peter Mohan, Tanya Huff, Kaleidoscope Entertainment, etc… :0(

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Please let me know if any of this becomes boring, tedious, stereotypical, blah, makes you want to hurl, change to a different website, or exit out. I am not above taking requests to keep you coming back!

HHHHHHHH

Sticks and stones rattled and rolled across her ensorcelled table. White marble inlayed with the black veins of an ancient pentangle glowed coldly under the light of five dark purple candles set across the top. Trained eager eyes quickly sifted through their settled positions, reading the ruins scarred into their faces. Just as quickly, a red nailed hand swept through them, sending them flying to the floor of the altar room.

The flame in the center candle bobbed and danced while the rest burned steady unmoved by the sorceress's tantrum.

Sinead saw this and with a growl picked up the silver candle snuffer sitting to the right of her. With a red grin, she held it above the flame, pleased to see it still and shrink. "That's better, demon. Mock me again and you will find yourself at the bottom end of a black wick."

"Be careful how you treat them Sinead, fire demons are sensitive creatures," warned a dark voice.

Glancing at the antique case clock on the opposite wall, she noted it was an hour before sunset. "Marcus, up a bit _**early**_aren't you?" A smile on her face that in no way reached her narrowed gaze, Sinead turned to her unwanted guest.

Six foot three inches of pure muscle and masculinity beauty sauntered with animal grace to stand beside her. "What better way to keep an eye on you, Sinead." Pale eyes the color of old pewter stared first at the runes then at her. "You failed."

Sinead blinked. A dark cold, like a fierce rushing wind, washed through her. His rage.

"You disappoint me, witch." Marcus raised a hand to strike.

"No!" Though she didn't want to, Sinead flinched away. "No, Marcus. I closed the gate…"

"With Vicki Nelson on this side of it, mortal and still alive."

"I—" What could she say?

Marcus leaned close, the collar of his black leather jacket brushing against her right cheek. With one large hand on the board and the other resting on the back of her chair, she was trapped and contrarily aroused. "You have such potential, but you waste it on human emotion."

"I could care less about that bitch Nelson."

Cold lips slid along the tip of her ear in a light caress and a flare of heat shot straight to her cunt.

"I'm talking about Fitzroy."

Something sharp pierced her lobe. A tongue curled around the blood that flowed.

She groaned at the sensation tightening her womb. Trying to focus on the conversation, she licked her lips. "Henry? Henry is nothing, a toy."

Sharp teeth scraped down her neck, pausing at the pulse beating heavily in her arching throat.

Oh hell, she was going to cum and he hadn't even bit her yet! How weak! How absolutely hot!

"He is mine, Sinead. And I will not have you screwing this up with your foul womanly obsession for him."

She shuddered, closing her legs tightly against the moisture building between them. "How…How can you be certain getting rid of Vicki Nelson will even affect him? I've watched them, followed them. He doesn't act as if he cares…"

The hand on the table shifted swiftly to her left shoulder, spinning her around so that she faced him directly. "You are blind, Sinead. He would sell his soul for her life…He will sell his soul…to me."

"Why?"

Full lips, decadent, deadly to a woman's flesh, pulled back revealing a set of fangs that had Henry's looking like a sweet dessert. Descending at least a half inch longer than the bastard prince's, they glistened with heavy saliva and looked twice as deadly.

Her clit pulsed, releasing more of her sweet feminine moisture. She was so wet, so hot and swollen and ready.

His left hand dug into the dark length of her hair, pulling her head back, stretching the skin of her neck until the thick vein could be easily seen tracing its path from her collarbone upward behind her ear. His mouth drew closer. His voice was a mere whisper, but she felt its power all the way to her toes. Henry was candy, a sweet wine, Sinead thought. But Marcus, he was devil's own full meal.

"My reasons are my own, witch, and not for the likes of you. I'll give you one last opportunity. Fail me in this and I will have your soul as forfeit for an eternity."

Sinead swallowed, but did not fight the hold in spite of the pain. "I have a plan…"

Pewter eyes darkened to black. "Tell me."

On the table, the center flame twitched.

Before she could speak, Marcus' fangs sank deep. Black fire seared her soul. As her orgasm struck, she felt the vampire's powerful mind strip her bare.

She screamed and the flame danced with delight.

HHHHHHHHHH

A/N Holy Moly I think I'm beginning to scare myself!


	7. Chapter 7

CONTINUITY: Part 7 When All Hell Threatens

DISCLAIMER: I confess. I confess. I confess. Only the story line is mine.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: You wanted it, here it is. P.S. (great Blood Ties Music vid created by Paranormal Fan at www(dot)youtube(dot)com(backslash)watch?v(equal sign)hZq2t1sjp1I...

HHHHHH

Sunset was approaching.

He acknowledged it with the first tingling awareness on the edge of his mind.

The memory of a song he had once heard while hunting through a local nightclub not too long ago, flitted across his waking consciousness…

_Watch my life pass me by_

_In the rear view mirror._

_Pictures frozen in time_

_Are becoming clearer._

_I don't want to waste another day_

_Stuck in the shadows of my mistakes._

_Yeah!_

_Cause I want you_

_And I feel you_

_Running underneath my skin._

_Like a hunger, _

_Like a burning, _

_To find a place I've never been._

_Now I'm broken,_

_And I'm fading,_

_I'm half the man I thought I would be,_

_But you can have what's left of me._

_I've been dying inside_

_Little by little_

_Nowhere to go _

_But going out of my mind_

_An endless circle._

_Running from myself until _

_You gave me a reason for standing still._

_And I want you_

_And I feel you_

_Falling underneath my skin._

_Like a hunger, _

_Like a burning, _

_To find a place I've never been._

_Now I'm broken,_

_And I'm fading,_

_I'm half the man I thought I would be_

_But you can have what's left of me._

_Falling faster_

_Barely breathing_

_Give me something to believe in._

_Tell me it's not all in my head!_

_Take what's left of this man_

_Make me hope once again!_

_Cause I want you_

_And I feel you_

_Rubbing underneath my skin._

_Like a hunger, _

_Like a burning, _

_To find a place I've never been._

_Now I'm broken,_

_And I'm fading,_

_I'm half the man I thought I would be._

_You can have all that's left…_

_What's left of me._

_I've been dying inside,_

_You see._

_I've been going out of my mind._

_Out of my mind._

_I'm just running in circles all the time._

_Will you take what's left?_

_Will you take what's left?_

_Will you take what's left of me?_

_I'm just running in circles all the time_

_Will you take what's left?_

_Will you take what's left?_

_Will you take what's left of me?_

_Take what's left of me._

**What's Left of Me by Nick Lachey **

He took his first breath of the day.

Caught her scent.

Sighed.

Then rose.

HHHHHH

Cursing the delay of the train from Oshawa to Union Station and then the lack of cabs in the taxi queue, Vicki entered Henry's building practically breathing fire. Without acknowledging the wacky doorman, who was nose deep into his gossip rag, she marched to the elevator and stabbed the button to Henry's floor. As the doors slid closed, thankfully without allowing anyone else to enter, she sagged against the polished brass railing and closed her eyes. She didn't need to see her reflection in the four mirrored walls surrounding her. She was a mess. She knew it, but vanity was the least of her flaws. She needed to get herself back in some kind of control. She was shaking inside her skin. Breathing hard, it seemed there was no way to slow her lungs down. Her breasts ached from the pounding of her heart beneath them.

She tried counting.

She tried focusing on the puffs of circulated cold air blowing down on her from the elevator fan.

She tried to swallow past a dry throat.

What she did not try was to stay within the elevator when the doors slid open.

Pushing from the rail, she walked on legs that felt uncoordinated and graceless. The carpet beneath her feet whispered her approach. Scarcely had she touched the handle of Henry's door when it was pulled away from her. Strong arms, familiar hands, grabbed her around the waist. Lifted, spun, she found herself suddenly held against the inside of the door, Henry's hungry mouth devouring her lips.

It was like being handed the key to life and she responded, softening, opening. Without conscious thought, her legs lifted, wrapping around Henry's rocking hips, pressing her heated center against his hard length. A groan slid past her throat as she felt his hands race down her waist to grab her ass and hold her close. Her hands lifted, nails digging into his shoulders.

Feeling the sharp pain of them, Henry arched his naked chest, pressing himself as close into her as he could. But it was not enough. Never enough. He wanted inside her, to feel her moist heat caressing his cock, taking him deep, gripping him hard until he lost the ability to tell where he ended and she began. The power of his lust was shocking, thrilling, driving all thought accept one from his head.

Angling his mouth, he caught her full lower lip in his teeth, nipping, tasting the tiny drop of blood welling along the inside of it.

Her flavor exploded against his tongue, igniting his senses. Sweet honey. Hot cinnamon. A low growl rumbled through his chest. He couldn't get enough. Every bone and muscle in his body screamed take her, yet the man in him wanted more, wanted to savor, to give, to feel her open to him mind and body.

Leaving one hand gripping her hip, he ran his right hand up, pulling her shirt from the waistband of her pants, sliding his fingers along the silken heated flesh of her belly.

Awareness of his touch, of the cooler air on her exposed skin, wrought a shudder through her. She knew where this was going, wanted it more than she wanted her next breath. Releasing her lips from his, she pulled back just far enough to see his face, to read the stark passion in his black gaze.

"Vicki." His voice was harsh with desire. It drove a dagger of flame straight down to that secret heart of her, the place she so desperately needed filled.

She said nothing, allowing the passion and trust in her eyes to convey the depths and power of her need, her permission. Fingers trembling, she brushed them across his flushed cheeks, his jaw, down the taut muscles of his throat. She felt him swallow. The convulsive movement had erotic images flying through her mind; his mouth on her tasting her, hers on him, drawing on his essence and passion. She sighed, melted even more.

A heavy pulse hammered above his heart as she paused to rest a single finger against it. It beat in sync with her own. She licked her lips, trailed the finger away, and replaced it with a wet lingering kiss. His sharp breath hissed in her ear, sending chills along her skin. Looking up, she captured his dark look then ran her nails lightly across his nipples. His eyes closed. His head fell back. A low hungry moan rose from his throat. The sound tightened brought her breasts to aching fullness. She brushed against his nipples again, scraping the puckered flesh and felt it in her own.

Confused, mildly startled by the sensation, she lifted her hands away, only to have him take them in his own. "Touch me," he breathed. "No one…" He leaned his mouth against her ear, ran his tongue along the outer edge and breathed against the wetness. "No one has touched **me** in a very…very long time." He laid her hands back upon his body, dragging them from his shoulders, down his chest, over his convulsing abs to the edge of his pants.

Her fingers clenched in the fabric, slipping beneath the seam behind the button, brushing the head of his hardened sex. "Henry." His name was a prayer, a command. She didn't understand his words, but trusted in them, believed him. Flicking her thumb beneath the button, she popped it open, slid the zipper slowly down then reached inside to take him in her hand.

"Yes! Vicki…" He surged against her, pushing up, pulling back as she tightened her grip. Her touch was both heaven and hell against his tortured flesh. He burned for her, for release, fought to make it last forever.

Naked. He needed her naked.

Searching for the hem of her t-shirt, he grabbed and tugged upwards. Senses heightened by being exactly what he was, Henry heard the thin fabric flutter against to the floor even as he dropped his gaze to the lush swell of her breasts above black lace and that damned teasing pink bow. With a feral growl, he closed his sharp teeth over the bit of ribbon, pulled, and felt the entire front of her bra give way with a rip.

His heart stopped as the two haves fell open, revealing her creamy flesh in all its perfection to his starving gaze. _Mine, mine, mine_, his heart and soul chanted. Tensing, fighting the urge to sink his teeth into the sweet skin shivering under his gaze, he slammed his hands flat against the wood of the door on either side of her head. His breath railed through his lungs. His gums ached and burned and a hollowness that had nothing to do with sex, but everything to do with hunger, nearly swept his legs out from under him. Never had he felt this starved…this empty. It was all he could do to control himself.

Connected to him on a level she could hardly imagine, Vicki felt Henry's battle, felt it in the steel of his cock beneath her fingers, the trembling in his spine as she ran her other hand up his back to tangle in his hair. The unending growl reverberating from him and through her, inflamed her desire. Clenching her fingers tight against his scalp, she pulled him forward until his face rested in the valley of both aching breasts.

Cushioned by heat, Henry inhaled deeply, filling himself with her intoxicating scent. Roses, sweet and filled with summer time heat. Passion, hot and mouthwatering. And an underlying….

Henry froze. Every nerve, muscle, screamed at him, told him the name of the scent lying beneath all the others.

Fear.

His head snapped up. His hands closed on her face, reeling her in. Words were difficult to form. His voice was rough deep, barely under control. "What happened?"

Vicki heard the question, but her passion drugged thoughts did not connect to them. Instead, she tried to lean forward, to take Henry's lips with hers. He allowed it, briefly, but then pulled back again. Her hand on his cock stilled, dropped away.

"Vicki. What. Happened?"

"I came to the door. You grabbed me…."

Henry could not prevent the smile spreading past his fangs, but the flavor of her fear had settled on his tongue, refusing to be denied. He did not, could not have her fearing him. "I smell it on you." He said. "You're afraid."

Vicki blinked. Then like the slamming of a door, reality punched through the haze of her desire. She shook her head. "Was." She gasped. "Was afraid, but not of you." Raising her hand, she traced the line of his lips, slid a finger against his fang, pushed until it pierced her skin. "Never of you." Eyes following her actions, she drew the drop of blood across his lips, smiling as his tongue snaked out to lick away the redness.

Henry growled. Tightening his grip on her waist, he spun her with vampire swiftness to the narrow sofa in the center of the room. Settling in the corner, he realigned her thighs on either side of his legs, and nestled her moist heat close against his still hard cock. "Tell me."

Rocking against him, Vicki pushed her bare breasts against his lightly haired chest. She reveled in the tough of his flesh against hers. She so did not want to have this conversation now.

Left hand trailing up her spine, Henry absorbed the feeling of having her against him. In all his fantasies, he could not have imagined such unfettered joy and pleasure of simply holding her like this, touching her, listening to her breath as it rushed against his throat, her heart as it beat in time against his own. But he could not be distracted. Once his senses registered the flavor of fear on her, it would not leave him alone.

"Vicki. Stop."

Her shoulders shook beneath his hand. A stutter of breath blew against his neck as she nuzzled her mouth against his damp skin. Laughter. "Isn't that supposed to be the girl's line?" Vicki asked as she snaked her tongue out to taste the skin along Henry's throat. Without warning, she bit down.

Shocked, inflamed, and so absolutely turned on, Henry did something he had not done in centuries outside a woman's body. He lost control and came. Hard. Long. Powerfully he spilled his empty seed between them both.

Feeling the hot fluid pulse against her belly set an answering explosion deep inside her. Without the help of anything other than Henry's harsh roar of release, Vicki let go. Every muscle, every inch of her tightened as her orgasm ripped through her. Banding her arms about his head, she held on for dear life as her world shattered then slowly lazily reassembled itself into something new.

For long moments, they held each other, eased each other with soft feather-light touches along cheeks, arms, until their fingers met, laced and did not let go.

Feeling her breath finally begin to slow, Vicki pulled slightly back. Henry's face, so close to her own, reflected a peace and contentment that turned her heart over in her chest. His normally pale skin still held the flush of their passion in his high cheeks. His lips, swollen from their kisses, still held a trace of her blood at the corner. From his closed eyes, a single tear fell. Her heart hitched in her chest at the sight of it running down his face. Unable to help herself, she reached for it, brushed it away with the tip of her finger and brought it to her lips. Just as she was about to taste, his eyes snapped open and his hand caught hers, guiding it to her lips. As he watched, she opened her mouth, tasted the salt, and damn near came again.

Feeling the pulse of lust that speared through her, Henry brought his mouth once more down upon her lips, tasting that passion, drinking it into himself, and he knew he had just given into her care his very soul.

HHHHHH

A/N: I have absolutely never before written a scene such as this in my life. Please let me know how I did. Was it too blunt, offensive, obscure, just right? I won't ask if it was enough…because I somehow suspect that for a great many of you out there, it will never be enough:o)


	8. Chapter 8

CONTINUITY: Part 8 When All Hell Threatens

DISCLAIMER: See previous chapters…all right?

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Everyone and you all know who you are…even the rabid shippers who sneak readings on their lunch break! Your responses to the last "chapter" had me rolling off my chair in joyful laughter and nearly in tears with relief. You have no idea how I stressed about writing such an intimate and somewhat graphic scene and not have it come off…sorry about the pun…sounding lame and leaving everyone feeling somewhat disappointed. Heaven forbid Henry should disappoint Vicki and vice versa in this department, eh?

HHHHHHHH

Flesh against flesh, heart pounding against heart, they held each other as if each were loath to let go for even a moment. Their passion for each other simmered very close to the surface. Vicki could easily feel Henry's aroused state against the sticky skin below her navel. Henry heard it in the rushing of her blood. Yet neither one forced the issue. Instead they remained in the moment, bonded by more than just physical intimacy.

Henry's hands continually caressed her body as she rested her weight fully against his. Except for their breathing, the apartment was intimately quiet, and for once, Vicki wallowed in the peace. She felt no nervous energy, no embarrassment, no need to offer up a conversation to cover up for having let her true self be in Henry's arms.

She sighed, nuzzling her face deeper into the space between Henry's shoulder and neck. His arms tightened in response than relaxed. She felt warm lips brush her forehead. Soon, she knew, they would both need to move, but for now, it was all deliciously good.

"There are a thousand things running through my head." Henry confessed quietly. His voice was a mere breath of a whisper barely breaking the silence wrapped so comfortably around them. "But the one that stands out from all the others is…" His shoulders jerked, but it wasn't until he spoke again, Vicki realized he was laughing. "You bit me."

A sweet blush swept across Vicki's cheeks. At the time she hadn't even realized she was going to, but something inside her, something aggressive and hungry goaded her into clamping down on the length of flesh he had offered her. She delighted in his response, was awed by the honesty of it. "And a thousand answers come to mind, but one stands out. You enjoyed it." To emphasize her words, she wiggled the lower half of her body against his.

Still marveling at that particular event, Henry turned his head. Lifting her chin from his shoulder, he brought her gaze up to his. Hair mussed and a bit wild, it framed her flushed face, reminding him of the first time he had seen her after a day spent in his bed. Brilliant and clear, her blue gaze met his own without fear. "I should apologize for my lack of self control." He said softly. Slowly, reverently, his finger traced a line down beneath her jaw, along the near invisible ridge of the vein in her neck, and further down past the sharp angles of her collarbone to rest upon the warm slope of her breast.

Watching him looking at her, Vicki found no sign of the princely arrogance she usually found annoying. In his now blue eyes was the expression of a man appreciating his lover with the trust that whatever happens between them, embarrassment need never be felt. She took that roaming finger, opened his hand fully, and laid it over her heart. "But you won't." She said.

His hand turned, captured her right breast completely and squeezed, rolling the soft flesh with wicked pressure, reawakening a pulse deep inside her. Hearing it, feeling it Henry's smile was swift, but fleeting. "No, I won't."

Leaning into the touch, encouraging his exploration, Vicki kissed him, a soft kiss on that irresistible lower lip that seemed to be permanently set on pout. "Good."

Quick to respond, Henry opened his mouth to slide his tongue in for a thorough sampling of the dark warmth beyond her lush lips. A low groan started deep in his chest as he reached up with his other hand. Sinking his fingers into the silk chaos of her hair, he angled her head and pulled her tighter to better service her mouth while his fingers continued to tug and play with the tightening nub between them.

Lord, he could kiss her forever, he thought. Her mouth was perfect, its shape, texture, taste. He would never be able to get enough. Not in _one_ life time or a thousand. His other hand came up cupping her cheek, holding her steady for his onslaught. He wanted to devour her, savor her, swallow her whole and never give her back. Her breath was his breath, the source of his life. She made him burn, a flame so hot that the memory of being cold became a distant recollection. In an instant he was hard and aching and moving against her warmth with a rhythm that was wonderfully reciprocated. The friction, the pressure on his straining cock drew his balls tightly up against the base of his shaft. Shuddering, he felt his gums swell as his incisors once more threatened to erupt. He fought the instinct, willed them back. This was between him and her; a man and his woman, not a vampire and his insatiable lust.

"Henry!" Vicki broke the kiss. As much as she loved his mouth on hers, she needed more. More to feel, more to taste. Drawing her body away from his, she ran a line of moist lingering kisses down his jaw. Tempted by the arch of his throat once more, she darted her tongue out for a taste, just a taste, and was rewarded with another long moan as Henry dropped his head back onto the sofa in offering. She smiled then moved on. His skin across his chest, hard muscle over bone, yet soft as satin beneath the light covering of hair tasted of salt and sex and something that was uniquely Henry. With one hand, she massaged those muscles, while with her tongue and teeth she nipped and licked at his nipples, teasing them to stiff points which brought his hips off the couch in a powerful surge.

_Sensitive_, she thought with an inward smile. _So sensitive. Every where._

_Yes… Heightened senses…Vampire curse and blessing._

Gasping, Vicki jerked away from him. Her hands flew from his chest to press against her temples. .

Suddenly bereft of her touch, Henry opened his eyes. Her obvious distress had him gripping her waist tightly. "Vicki. What is it?"

Eyes wide, face grown pale, Vicki stared at him. "I heard you!"

"And you jumped because….?"

"No, you don't understand. I heard you…your voice…in my head." She closed her eyes. "You said 'yes' like you were answering my…"

"Observation of sensitivity," supplied Henry. A powerful sense of euphoria rushed through him. Reaching up, he gently pulled Vicki's hands from her head. He knew his smile was wide, no doubt a bit toothy, but he couldn't help himself. Without force, without effort, he had heard her thoughts and sent her his own!

Seeing his expression, Vicki's shock faded to suspicion. "You're grinning like a fool, Henry."

"Sorry." But he wasn't. He couldn't be.

Vicki squirmed, drawing a gasp from his lips as she rubbed herself against his still hard shaft. "You're freaking me out here." She said, fighting not t be distracted from this new and frightening experience.

Henry's grin faded. "Don't. Don't be afraid."

"Why would I hear you in my head?"

"If not for your hard headedness," he said with great affection, "you would have heard me a long time ago." Taking her hands, he placed them on either side of his face and closed his eyes. A deep breath brought to him their mingled scents. Sharp, rich, musky, the fragrance was a heady aphrodisiac, inciting that darker part of him. _Kiss me._

His voice was like heated chocolate and it played in her head just as smoothly. Still, it was strange. The idea that he was able to get inside her like that made her feel vulnerable; a sensation completely abhorrent to her.

Henry felt it, like an approaching tidal wave of stone. It struck the shores of her mind and began to build upon itself. _Please…Vicki, don't close this connection. _

"I'm sorry." She whispered, letting her hands fall from his face to rest lightly on her thighs. "I'm sorry, it's just too much."

Henry groaned as the door between them slid shut, leaving him once again standing alone. His heart ached to have it back, but he would wait. Waiting had its rewards, he told himself. Look what waiting brought him this night!

"Oh God, I hurt you!"

The warm hands were back against his face, fingers trembling as they traced across his forehead and down his cheeks. Opening his eyes, he stole an opportunity. Leaning in quickly, he settled his lips against hers, tugging gently at her lower lip, tasting its flavor, before sliding away. "Yes and no."

Vicki blinked. "Well, that certainly tells me a lot."

Henry sighed. "Honesty?"

"Absolutely."

"Yes, it hurts, but not in the way you might think. Not physically, anyway."

Vicki pondered his words, then felt a wave of warmth flood her heart. "Connection! You told me once you feel other people's emotions…"

"When I feed, yes." He was pleased she remembered, had listened, though at the time he hadn't been certain she had understood what he had been trying to tell her.

"And when you…" She shrugged, uncomfortable with equating what happened between them, as something he did with all his women.

"When I am loving you," began Henry, his voice slow and deliberate. "It opens you to me, opens your mind to mine. Mine to yours. We connect…." His fingers and brushed the straps of her torn bra down the slope of her shoulders. His eyes followed the fall of the bit of black lace, then retraced a path back up to the twin globes of flesh so temptingly displayed. Tracing a feather light caress across the tops of both, he watched in absolute fascination as the dusky circle of skin puckered and the tips of her nipples rose. Unable to resist, he brought his mouth down to taste, just a taste, before continuing. "We connected because you dropped the walls you hide behind. Because you trusted me with who you are."

Nervously, Vicki licked her lips and tasted him. "Umm, this doesn't mean you can make me do what you want, does it?"

Henry's heart jumped. The heat that had suffused him was quickly faded. He did not want to have this talk. He wanted her trust, her acceptance, not her doubt.

"Henry?"

He sighed. "Honesty?"

"Always."

His gaze slid to a point on the skyline beyond the window behind her. His voice was hollow, emotionless as he replied, for he knew what was about to come next. "Because I have the stronger mind, yes. If we were connected I could bend your will to mine."

"Oh God!" Sliding quickly from his lap, she stood swaying beside the sofa. The floor beneath her feet seemed more like an undulating sea than a firm surface and she clasped her hand to her head in order to steady her balance.

Uncaring about his state of undress or his arousal, Henry leaped to his feet to hold her. "Vicki!" He rasped. "I would never do it. Trust me, Vicki. I would never jeopardize what is between us by betraying you like that. I swear."

Vicki heard the pain in his voice, felt it grate against her own emotions, but she couldn't help the way she felt. She was only just beginning to realize what committing herself to a relationship with him was really all about and at the moment, it was overwhelming. Her breath hitched then raced.

"Vicki, talk to me. I know this must be frightening for you, but it is who I am. Who I need to be with you. I cannot stop it. Don't want to stop it." Fear froze his heart. "Look at me, Vicki." He waited past several painful heartbeats before she raised her face to his. He swallowed. "I need this between us, Vicki. I am so very tired of being alone."

His words broke her heart. Without thought, she moved into his embrace, wrapping her arms tight about his back.

Convulsively, Henry's arms closed about her, pressing himself into her, absorbing her into himself. "Vicki." He whispered, rubbing his face against her hair. _Mine. _As the word echoed within him, he discovered a place inside that laughed. He knew if she ever heard that word, she would probably castrate him with his own sword.

"It's all a bit much," she murmured into his neck.

"I know." A smile curved his lips. Deliberately, he lowered his voice to hat deep vibration he knew would make her shiver. "There is a benefit to being connected, aside from my being able to find you anywhere."

Vicki lifted her head as a teasing trail of warmth rippled up her spine and set her flesh to goose bumps. "Really?"

"Hmmm." His eyes darkened to black. "If you were not here in my arms, if you were open to me as I would always be open to you…." With a nudge, he turned her head until his mouth was brushing against the sensitive flesh of her ear.

"Yes?"

His tongue traced the curved ridge, then delved briefly inside.

Entranced by his voice, by the touch of him, the sound of his breath in her ear, Vicki whimpered with need. "Henry…"

Henry ignored her plea. He was set on his course. "You could, if you wanted, have a bit of mind-sex."

Mind sex? Vicki frowned, his words were slow in the translation due to her distracted state, but when they sank in, she couldn't help the snort of laughter that erupted from her. "Mind sex? What, is that something like phone-sex?"

Henry nipped at her lips. "Better."

"Better how?"

He grinned, but kept his voice low, his eyes dark pools, hypnotic. "Images, erotic, adventurous, surreal. Fantasies, your fantasies. You could picture them, send them to me. Tease me."

Her heart stuttered and a pool of moisture dampened her panties right through her jeans. "You're kidding, right?" Her voice was more a squeak she was so turned on.

"Let me in, and I'll show you." His voice was pure seduction.

"Uhmmm…How 'bout I go use your shower while you call for dinner." She countered, gathering her will power before she lost it all. "I'm starving."

Pulling sharply away, Henry grit his teeth. "You're kidding, right?"

Vicki patted his cheek and took two steps back. "Nope, haven't had anything but a sip of coffee at noon."

Henry took a breath. Then another. Then after three beats of his heart, he felt her retreat. She was heading toward his bedroom and the bathroom beyond. Regret made him ache in places that still yearned for her touch, but he was wise enough to know her retreat did not mean rejection. He inhaled again, drinking in the scents that rolled from her. Sex; yes, she still wanted, ached right along with him. Hunger; he couldn't smell it, but he could hear the emptiness of her stomach. Fear; there was none, except…

With vampire swiftness, he sped across the room, stopping before her.

With a completely unlady like screech, Vicki bumped up against his now you see me now you don't self. "God, I hate it when you do that!"

"Too bad."

Vicki blinked, surprised by his dark tone. "Henry?"

"You were afraid. Before. Why?"

Reality was a bitch, Vicki thought as Henry's words brought the memory of the day slamming home. Still, she hadn't mastered the subtle art of distraction for nothing. "In my bag, which I hope is on this side of the door and not the other, is my camera." She patted his chest, her fingers lingering ever so gently over his heart. "While your calling for Italian, take a look at the last image. Let me know what you think."

And with that, she sidestepped past him, slid into the bathroom, and closed the door.

A/N: For those who have complained recently that I'm not writing long enough "chapters", I hope this satisfies you. If not, (shrug) oh hell. I'll try to do better next time! As always, good, bad, or indifferent, comments are always appreciated.


	9. Chapter 9

CONTINUITY: When All Hell Threatens Part 9

DISCLAIMER: You all know the spiel.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I feel decidedly wicked, positively evil, and you know what that means. Someone's got to pay…

HHHHHH

Eying the door as if the very flames of Hell could erupt from his gaze and blast the barrier down, Henry listened as Vicki began to sing. No doubt she thought the sound of the water cascading from the brass faucet in his tub would mask her voice had he possessed normal hearing, but he was Henry Fitzroy, Prince of Darkness extraordinaire.

E…lec…tricity.

Eye to eye

Hey, don't I know you?

I can't speak.

Stripped my senses

On the spot

I never been defenseless.

I can't even make sense of this.

You speak and I don't hear a word…

What would happen if we kiss?

Would your tongue slip past my lips?

Would you run away?

Would you stay?

Or would I melt into you?

Mouth to mouth,

Lust to lust

Spontaneous…ly combust

Room is spinning

Out of control

You act like you didn't notice.

Brush my hand.

For…bidden fruit

Ring on my finger

Your such a moral mortal man.

Would you throw it away?

No question.

Will I pretend I'm innocent?

What would happen if we kiss?

Would your tongue slip past my lips?

Would you run away?

Would you stay?

Or would I melt into you?

Mouth to mouth

Lust to lust

Spontaneous…ly combust

What would happen if we kiss?

Ohh….Ohhh.

I struggle with myself again

Quickly the wall comes crumblin'

Don't know if I can turn away…

What would happen if we kiss?

Would your tongue slip past my lips?

Would you run away?

Would you stay?

Or would I melt into you?

Mouth to mouth

If we kissed,

Would you tongue slip past my lips?

Would you run away?

Would you stay?

Mouth to mouth….

If we kissed?

Ohh…

If we kissed….

Ohhh…

Lust to lust

Spontaneously combust…

**(Meredith Brooks. **

**What Would Happen)**

Her voice wasn't rock star quality, but it the sincerity behind the song made him want to filter his body into mist, slide beneath the door, then into the steamy shower stall right beside her. However, it was obvious she needed her space, and he would not deny it. Reaching down to adjust his pants, Henry was reminded of the wonderful mess he had made upon them both. Really wanting that shower now, but smart enough to know he was not invited, he did what any good vampire did when they hadn't the time to clean away the evidence of their urges; he willed himself clean back into his perpetual state of perfection. By the time he reached his front door and Vicki's bag which lay in a limp and forgotten heap near the left end of the frame, all outward evidence of their intimacy had vanished. Leaning down, he grabbed the long frayed strap, then froze as his hearing caught the unmistakably familiar, and certainly unwanted tread of one Michael Celluci. A feral growl rolled from his throat. With every ounce of his being he gathered his will and sent it toward the man; _Go. Away._

On the other side of the door, Mike paused. Man, he so didn't want to be here, he thought, but he had no choice. Vicki was not answering her phone. She wasn't at the office. Coreen hasn't spoken to her since noon. She wasn't in the park running. It was after sundown, so the only place left was here. Still, his desire to turn around and leave, to wait until tomorrow to let her know about Bridewell's place was like a buzzing of strangely familiar voices echoing inside his head. It made his scalp crawl, the side of his neck throb…

He hissed, putting a name to that familiarity. Fitzroy. His voice angry, fierce, deadly as it had been when Mike had slid into his bite after he had broken free of Mendoza's chains. _Goddamn vampire! _

Lifting his hand, he pounded on the door. No way Fitzroy was going to chase him off.

Henry sighed, debated. He could let the detective pound away on the door until he got tired and left, which there was no guarantee Celluci wouldn't just camp out in the hallway in anticipation of either Henry or Vicki leaving. Or he could…Henry glanced down at himself, at his naked chest, his undone pants, at the sight of Vicki's shirt on the floor a few feet from the door. A wicked grin curved his lips. He reached for the handle.

"You banged, detective?" He asked, opening the door just wide enough for Celluci to get a peek inside.

Hand poised to rap against the wood again, Mike gaped at Henry's half naked state. In a heart beat he catalogued Henry's bare chest, the trail of hair arrowing downward to disappear beyond a popped button and partially undone zipper, and Vicki's bag dangling from his left hand. His heart slammed into his throat and a terrible cold lump of acid settled in his gut.

"I need to talk to her." Mike said without preamble.

Henry barely resisted rolling his eyes. He could almost predict the detective's script. "Can't it wait 'til morning?"

"No. It cannot."

"Why not?"

Mike faltered. There was not real reason as to why not. "It's about Bridewell."

Henry's gaze narrowed. By the beat of Celluci's heart, he could tell that was the truth, but there was something the man was not saying. "Bridewell's back in Hell where he belongs."

"Is he?"

"You saw him yourself."

Mike slid his foot just beyond the frame of the door, pressing for entry. "I also saw his burnt out building this afternoon, along with the remains of a corpse burnt to nothing but ash and bone. Know anything about it?"

Folding his arms across his chest, drawing Mike's gaze to Vicki's bag once more, Henry leaned against the edge of the door. He was well aware of the detective's foot breaching the threshold, but something wicked in him wanted to draw this confrontation out. Of course, if Vicki caught wind of what he was doing, he knew she'd give him a hell of good tongue lashing.

Hmmmm, a tongue lashing. The images in Henry's mind set his lips tilting upward.

Mike noticed the expression. His hands fisted at his sides, but before he could say anything else, he was stopped dead by the shift of Henry's blue eyes to black. A rippling feral growl rumbled through the vampire's throat as he stiffened beside the door. The parting of his lips on a sudden deep intake of breath revealed the deadly points of Henry's fangs.

Taking a step back, Mike felt the blood pool in his feet. "Now, hold on there, Fitzroy…."

Henry hissed, then spun so swiftly away, it took Mike several heart beats before he realized the vampire had left the door open. Taking this as an invitation, Mike slipped inside.

Breath coming in short pants, Henry stopped at the bathroom door just short of breaking through it. In his head images danced of Vicki naked, hot water sluicing down her lithe body as she knelt gracefully down before him. Steam billowed about them both, lending a wonderfully surreal affect to the moment. Through it, her blue eyes sought his own even as her hands trailed up from his boney feet, along his calves. She paused at that oh so sensitive spot behind his knees, placed wet open mouthed kisses on both his knees before trailing her lips up the inside of his left thigh.

Outside the bathroom door, Henry placed a hand over his suddenly throbbing and fully erect cock.

Mind sex. Oh Lord, she was doing it! Thinking of him, fantasizing about him…trusting him. Exalted beyond words, Henry felt his knees threatened to buckle. Behind him, he heard the sound of Celluci walking inside and closing the door behind him.

Henry grimaced, reached for the bathroom door. Quickly slipping inside, he immediately spied Vicki hands flat, leaning against the marble tile of the shower wall. Head thrown back, she looked like a woman in the throws of an orgasm.

In the blink of an eye and a puff of wind, Henry was in there with her, his naked body pressed tight to her back, his heavy cock caressing her bottom. His hand covered her mouth, preventing the squeal of surprise from erupting. As much as he wouldn't mind Celluci walking in and seeing them, he had no doubt Vicki would not be so accommodating in sharing this very erotic moment. "You witch!" Henry accused, nipping the back of her shoulder, sliding his hand down her spine to cradle her hip.

Dragging her mind away from the images in her head, Vicki felt a moment of disorientation between reality and fantasy. She recovered quickly, however, and eased herself from beneath Henry's hand. Turning, she ran her gaze over his gloriously naked form. Fantasy be damned, she thought. The real thing was so much better. Pale legs covered with a smattering a freckles, well defined thighs, a thick patch of coarse hair from which a powerful erection jutted. Boldly, she reached out and took him in her hand, her thumb grazing the blood engorged head.

"Oh, sweet heaven, Vicki!" Henry raggedly whispered as he placed his hand over hers. Instinctively, he moved her hand over his flesh from tip to base, squeezing until the ache became almost unbearable. Pulling her close, trapping their hands between them, he leaned close. "I loved the fantasy, but we have a problem."

She slid her hand lower, grazing her fingernails along the base of his balls until a low hiss of breath escaped him. "I don't think so." She said with a slow sultry smile.

"Celluci!" Henry gasped, running his free hand upward into her hair.

Vicki jerked. "What? You're bringing Mike into this?"

His lips latched on to hers, tongue delving in a swift and passionate kiss. "If I don't leave here within thirty seconds, he's going to be bringing himself in here." He rasped.

Blinking past the water in her eyes, Vicki stared at Henry. "You mean he's here? Mike is. Here? In your apartment."

Eyes closing against the agony firing through his body, Henry nodded.

"Oh. My. God. Henry!" In a panic, she reached around him and twisted the water controls.

Pulling her back, Henry rested his forehead against hers. "You started it." He said hoarsely. "Finish it."

"Finish…?"

The pressure on the top of her head, the dark need in his eyes, and the memory of her shower fantasy told her all she needed to know. A dark and wicked sensation filled her. A throbbing need in her cunt took up the pounding rhythm of her heart. She licked her lips, vacillated.

"Please," groaned Henry. His body shook with the effort to control the urge to spin her around and take what he wanted. Arching his chest upward, he pushed himself into her swollen breasts, loving the way her turgid nipples speared into his wet skin.

Shivering with more pleasure than she had ever felt, all sense of self preservation fleeing the face of Henry's obvious need, Vicki made her decision. Instead of allowing the pressure of his kneading hand in her hair guide her downward, she lifted her right leg and hooked it up around his hip, trusting that his own hands would drop to support her.

"You finish it."

With a hoarse shout of triumph, Henry did just that. In one hard thrust, he slid into her moist heat even as he shoved her hard against the tile wall. Mouth on her mouth, he absorbed her cries even as he pounded inside her, all the while praying she was not going to regret this.

_No regrets._

The voice, her voice, sweet and soft and loving inside his mind, slammed his body into overdrive. Riding her, mindless, loss in the sensation of finally being lost inside her, Henry came for the second time that evening. Powerful, shattering, it was all he could do to keep her against him as his knees crumbled, sending him painfully hard onto the unforgiving tile.

"Hey, you in there? Vicki?"

HHHHHHH

A/N: I told you I felt wicked.


	10. Chapter 10

CONTINUITY: When All Hell Threatens Part 10

DISCLAIMER: You all know the spiel.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: It has come to my attention that a poll is being taken between a few of my chapters. I thought I'd throw in another…But just to remind you guys….sometimes its not just about sex.

HHHHHH

"Oh, god!" moaned Vicki as she held tight to Henry's trembling frame. Her voice seemed as loud as a gunshot in the tiled room.

"God had nothing to do with it," whispered Henry into Vicki's ear as, with blessed vampire agility, he shifted their positions so that he was leaning back against the cooling tile wall and Vicki was once more straddling his hips.

Surprised by the movement, Vicki clutched at his wet shoulders, then moaned once more as it caused his still hard cock to push deeper inside her.

Enjoying the friction, Henry's slid his palms down the gentle dip of her small waist, over the satin flare of her hips, to the lush firm muscles of her thighs. With a masterful touch, he spread them wider, opening her to both his gaze and deeper penetration. "Ride me," he commanded. His voice was deep, encouraging. His deep blue gaze avid as he watched her passion flushed face, her trembling lips. Needing a taste, he swooped forward, licked and nipped at the corners of her mouth, before slanting his lips to take her mouth fully with his own.

Unable to deny him, deny the passion she has so long kept bottled up inside her, Vicki responded, her tongue darting into his mouth, tasting him, feeling the sharpness of his incisors. Their presence made her think of other things penetrating her body. Deep inside her womb, she felt him. Full, engorged, sliding through her slickness as she lifted herself away, then plunged downward onto him. Her rhythm was slow, deliberate, and with every upward release of her hips, she tightened her inner muscles, caressing his shaft as if in a long sweet goodbye.

Groaning deeply at the heat of her pulling on him, rippling along every inch of his hard length, Henry struggled to keep himself from taking control, from pushing her back onto the floor and slamming his cock deep and hard within her. Though she may not recognize it now, he knew she needed this, needed to have this moment of control. Yet as he filled himself with every glorious sensation, Henry did not forget the man stalking through his apartment bent on hunting Vicki down. Instinct, natural and as old as time, fired through him; protect what was his. He sighed, torn between his desire to making this moment last and setting his territory to rights.

Territorial instincts won out when he heard a gravelly muttered 'Goddamn it!" coming from the living room. Celluci had discovered the remnants of Vicki's bra on the floor beside the sofa.

"I'm sorry, love," whispered Henry as he slid a hand from her hip to the dark nest of curls hiding her feminine treasures. He made certain he held her gaze, as he deftly separated her folds and found the swollen nub hidden within in. "As much…" He swallowed as he felt her tighten on him. It was exquisite. He circled her clit, gathering the moisture between them to soften the slide of his thumb over its sensitive hood. "As much as I want this to go on forever…"

She understood. How could she not? She had heard the sound of Mike moving around on the other side of the room. She had been insane to even think of starting something after Henry had told her. Still, she had been unable to help herself. She knew herself well enough to realize once she set her course, right or wrong, good or bad, there was no stopping her. Sliding into her fantasy had been so easy as she had stood beneath the shower. Though she had reached a peak with Henry on the sofa, it had not been enough to feed the ache inside her. The soap on her skin, the steam billowing around her, all smelling so much of Henry, had her hand sliding south into her swollen folds even as her mind conjured Henry standing proud and willing before her. She hadn't realized she had engaged that connection he had spoken about until his hand clamped over her mouth to silence her shout. Once she realized what had happened, however, she did what any red blooded woman in the throws of near ecstasy would do, she took what she needed and consequences be damned! Little did she realize the magnificence of Henry's staying power, or the absolute beauty of having him like this; loving her.

And it was loving. The wonder expressed on Henry's face as he touched her, as she rocked against him, made her think of first times. He was so damn beautiful, like watching perfection or listening to the perfect song. He stirred her as no man ever had, gave as no other did; with heart and soul. Tears suddenly filling her eyes, she knew she could do no less.

Feeling her inner walls ripple with the threat of orgasm, Vicki took his face into her hands and guided him to her neck. "Take what you want, Henry," she urged in sultry tones.

She felt him tremble. A catch of his breath, a fierce rumbling growl had her sliding over the edge. Spasming, Vicki bit down on the scream that wanted to rip past her throat as the ultimate pleasure raced upward from her toes and exploded out through her room.

Dizzy, swimming in the sensation of her cunt milking his cock, Henry lost his human side and sank his fangs deep into the offered vein. As her sweet hot blood filled his mouth, he reached his release. Pumping hard, holding her hips down to his upward thrusts, he spurted his seed inside her. It was all he could do not to shout his triumph like some medieval caveman, but he managed it, because there was no way in hell he wanted Celluci bursting in and taking away this perfect moment away from him.

Soon, too soon, he felt Vicki go limp against him. Retracting his fangs, he slid his tongue along the four punctures, healing them instantly. For several heart beats he held her close then with a long sigh of regret, he took them both out of the shower stall and into his room with the power of speed and thought. If Vicki was surprised, she did not show it as he laid her gently, damp body and all, on his bed.

"Stay. Please," he said, brushing a kiss over her swollen lips. "I'll take care of Mike." Willing his pants back on, but nothing else, he lifted the dark satin comforter over her. As he turned to go, her hand snaked out, grabbing at his.

"Don't hurt him."

Blue eyes collided. Henry's mouth tightened. "He's in my home against my wishes Vicki. I protect what's mine."

"I don't need protecting." Instantly angered, Vicki tried to rise, but Henry's touch on her shoulder kept her down.

Knowing she probably wasn't even aware of how her words had just committed herself to him, Henry smiled. "I know you can take care of yourself, but this isn't about your needs, Victoria. It's about mine. I ask that you try to understand that." And with a swish of air, Henry was gone and the doors were closing after him.

"Celluci."

At Henry's sudden appearance, Mike leaped back away from the bedroom doors which now stood closed against him. Heart slamming against his chest, he stared at the vampire who looked no different than he had when answering the door. Dragging up a shit load of bravado he did not feel, Mike pulled himself to his full six foot plus height. Though he usually didn't consciously use his height for intimidation, this time, he felt he needed all advantages when dealing with Fitzroy. "What's going on here? You going to let me see Vicki or not?"

Folding his arms across his bare chest, he nodded toward the front door. "I'm going to ask you once. Will you please leave?"

Mike shook his head. He refused to be intimidated. "I need to talk to Vicki."

"She is currently indisposed and not inclined to visitors, Celluci."

Mike's gaze narrowed. "What have you done to her, vampire?"

In less than a heartbeat, Henry was at the man's throat, his fingers clamped around Celluci's trachea. He exerted only a minimal amount of pressure, promising more with a simply growl and the revealing of fangs. "I warned you, Celluci."

"Henry." Her voice from the room behind him was neither angry nor loud, but the quietness of his name on her lips pulled him back like nothing else ever had.

Slowly, he let his fingers slide from the detective's neck. Turning, his black gaze slipping to blue, he stared at her. Dressed in his red satin robe, the belt cinched at her narrow waist, she was a vision of erotic beauty. His once dead heart faltered as he watched her approach.

She acknowledged him with the slightest of smiles then turned a cold assessing gaze on Mike. "He asked you to leave, Mike."

Mouth hanging open, Mike stared at her. What she said scarcely registered. Never, in all the years he has known her, has he ever seen her look more beautiful; so content in her own skin as she did now. Hair slightly damp, it framed her flushed cheeks with artless abandon, emphasizing her large blue eyes which he had always found mesmerizing. Though the dressing gown was tied closed, the deep vee of the neckline sent his mind spiraling through a hundred memories. Each one ignited his desire. He felt the flush of it rise up hi neck and into his face. Felt it in the tightening of his groin, but regardless of his own body's response, his heart told him quite clearly that he would never regain what he had lost.

Sliding his gaze to the figure standing between them, Mike saw a truth he knew he could have lived a thousand lifetimes and not want to see. The open expression settled on Fitzroy' eternally youthful features spoke of feelings deep and powerful. Mike wouldn't say it was love, he couldn't. But he was certain that whatever Fitzroy felt it was real and not some trick of his black eyes or hypnotic voice.

He sighed, truly realizing he should not have come.

"Go home, Mike," said Vicki in gentle tones. She had watched his expressions as a thunder bolt of thoughts descended upon him, saw the moment when he finally acknowledged the end of what they had had. It broke her heart. She had never wanted to hurt him, but neither did she want to continue hurting as well. "I'll see you tomorrow. Okay?"

Numb, Mike nodded. Turning, he headed back to the door.

Henry watched him go, but before the man reached hi destination, he was there before him, hand on his shoulder.

Feeling she would never get used to the faster than the eye can see power Henry possessed, Vicki saw Henry lean close and whisper something in Mike's ear. She watched as Mike acknowledged it with a stiff nod before Henry opened the door and let him leave. When the door was once more closed, Henry raised his gaze to meet hers. A smile tilted the corner of his mouth.

"Tired?" He asked.

Instead of words, she shook her head.

"Then I think we need to see a priest. Now. Tonight."


	11. Chapter 11

CONTINUITY: When All Hell Threatens Part 11

DISCLAIMER: Because out of respect of talents other than my own, I must confess that I own nothing to do with Blood Ties….at the moment…and that only the actions and plot are of my own creation.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Two more Friday's to go! Can we handle it?

HHHHHHHHHHHHH

Vicki stared at Henry in disbelief. Tired of the rollercoaster ride on her emotions, she was all set to jump in; her defensive weapons; sarcastic and acid tongued remarks, ready to blast away any idea of marriage right out of the vampire's mind. Hell, she was only just beginning to come to terms with the idea of allowing herself to openly acknowledge her attraction to him. To spring up a visit to a priest…..Well, that was a little too much to swallow.

Taking a deep breath, the words just ready to roll from her tongue, she noticed for the first time the narrowing crinkle at the corner of his eyes and the twitch of his full lips. Her eyebrows drew down in suspicion. Swallowing her first instinct, nearly choking on the words, she folded her arms across her chest and settled her weight onto one leg. "All right, give it up."

Dark eyebrows rose with mocking innocence. "What?"

"A priest."

"Yes, that's what I said."

"Because--?"

He walked toward her, or rather stalked toward her, his hands taking her by the waist and turning her towards his bedroom.

Vicki stiffened. "Henry."

"Victoria." Repeated Henry with a smile as he bent close and inhaled the heady scent of her damp hair. The musky fragrance of their love making filled his lungs, stirred his cock, but he ignored the pulsing in his pants for something gentler and sweeter; simple touch. Noticing the stiffness of her shoulders, he lifted his hands and laid them across the red silk. Slick, sensuous, it moved beneath his palm with a quiet rasp, added an erotic intensity to the massage he offered. "You were right." He said softly, wrapping a length of her damp hair around his thumb.

Of course I was, Vicki wanted to say. The wonder of ten fingers smoothing out the tension from her back and neck distracted her. Silently she moaned and closed her eyes. "About what?" She whispered, unwilling to break the spell Henry was weaving.

He leaned close, brushing a soft kiss along the side of her neck. His tongue darted out to taste, then moved away so quickly, Vicki had a hard time deciding if she had felt it at all. It was also very difficult to follow Henry's words as he spoke close to her ear.

"My motives for keeping Bridewell's book." Henry explained. "I could not think to destroy it or the other objects if the answer to reversing what Asteroth and Bridewell did to you lies within its pages. Betty Sagara was the only one I trusted to find if this could be done."

"You could have told me," said Vicki as she leaned in to his touch. She was in heaven. He knew exactly how much pressure, where to dig his fingers, where to circle slowly, where just to push to loosen the tension that had ripped into them when she had heard Mike and Henry on the other side of the closed bedroom doors.

"Yes, but I didn't want to get your hopes up if it proved a futile search. I would have destroyed the book and dagger had I not been able to find what we needed to release you from Asteroth's web."

Yes, deep down she had known that. "I take it Sagara has not completed her research."

"No."

"And you figure because the blessing of the dagger by Father Carmichael worked against the demon, further blessings upon the other objects might have similar benefits."

"No." Ending the massage, Henry gently pushed her into his bedroom. "I think hiding the objects on the Holy ground of the church will afford us a measure of time. Apparently, the power of God still holds sway over demon ritual."

Legs scarcely cooperating, Vicki allowed herself to be propelled toward the bed. Disappointment nearly felled her when Henry released his hold on her shoulders and headed for the closet. The hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach sparked her anger. Not liking the fact that her response made her feel like she was behaving a bit too needy, she frowned. Clinging was not attractive. Certainly it was not how she wanted to be. She was strong, independent, very capable of being on her own. She didn't need to have a man to complete her picture.

She sighed. No, she just wanted one.

Turning away from both the thoughts and the bed, she spied her bag by the bathroom floor. Picking it up, she reached inside and pulled out the camera. "What about the mortal factor?" She asked, powering up the device.

"You mean the possibility of corruption?" called back Henry from the cavernous depths of his ultra organized personal affects. Quickly he sifted through the items in his dresser drawers and on the hangers until he found what he was looking for.

"Temptation," corrected Vicki.

In a heart beat Henry was before her. Draped in his talented hands was a pair of black fleece sweatpants and a wine colored fleece shirt. "You are the temptation, Vicki."

Heat flared in her cheeks as she felt his gaze peruse the length of her body. "Yes, well, uhmm…." Unable to find the strength to deny the fire coursing through her veins, she thrust the camera towards him. "You didn't look?"

Laying the clothes on the bed, he took it from her. "Other things distracted me." That wonderful fleeting smile lit his eyes.

THUD…went her heart. She moistened suddenly dry lips, and nodded at the image she had called up. "Perhaps you should take a look now."

HHHHHHHHHHHH

Stepping out of the elevator, Mike didn't spare even a glance at Greg the night doorman. Instead, his heart one giant ache in his chest, he pushed through the doors and into the cold comfort of modern world beyond. He wasn't more than a half dozen steps towards his car when a hand on his shoulder stilled him. His gut instinct mingled with the anger fuming through him, had him reaching up with deadly fingers. Grasping the palm, he twisted it then turned.

"Ohhh!"

The feminine cry had him relaxing his grip instantly. "Oh, lord, I am so sorry!"

Eyes as rich as dark chocolate stared at him. Red lips, the kind one would find on some hot fashion ad, pouted. "I didn't mean to startle you, detective."

"Yes, well, doing something like that could get you killed." Mike said gruffly. Then he froze. "You know who I am."

The siren smiled. "You and I have a great deal in common." Slowly she turned her gaze up.

Arrested by the perfect curve of her jaw, revealed when her dark hair slid back away from her face, Mike was slow on the uptake. It took a few moments and a inner shake of his head, before he found the desire to follow her look. It took less time to realize she was eyeing the lights streaming through the upper floor windows. "Fitzroy." He hissed.

"Hmmm, vampire extraordinaire."

"You know what he is?"

The woman looked at him with a curving her luscious lips. "Of course."

Mike stiffened. "You're one of his women."

"I am never part of a crowd."

No, thought Mike with a little of his old humor rising. You would definitely stand out. "I'm sorry, you have me at a disadvantage. You are?"

She held out her hand, red nails gleaming. "Call me Sinead, detective."

Responding instinctively, Mike took the offered hand in a light clasp and gentle clasp. For one crazy insane moment, he had this terrible urge to bring her wrist to his lips, but he didn't. Instead, he slowly lifted his gaze up past her obvious décolletage, across her lush red painted lips, and into her eyes. "Since we already have so much in common, why don't you call me, Mike?"

"Mike, it is. Would you care to join me for a drink and a bit of conversation?"

"About our common interests?"

Sinead smiled. "I think we have a lot to share."

Mike watched that smile, watched and knew he was looking at a woman scorned. The idea worried him, but not enough to send him back pedaling away from her. Besides, a woman Henry scorned would make a good ally in his battle to winning Vicki away from the monster. If she thought for just once second he was going to back down when he knew damn well Henry Fitzroy was literally pulling the wool over her eyes, then she had another think coming.

"Your place or mine?" asked Mike, tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow.

"Mine," answered Sinead instantly. "I have much to show you."


	12. Chapter 12

CONTINUITY: When All Hell Threatens Part 12

DISCLAIMER: Nope, still not mine…damn it!

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Please, dear readers, accept my deepest apologies for having delayed so long in continuing this tale. I have been so humbled by your kind encouragement towards taking up the keyboard in an effort to keep BT alive and am honored to be amidst such wonderful fans and writers as yourselves. Thank you for all your kind words and thanks to the DP and every special person who graces the BLOG there. You know who you are, and you have not been forgotten.

HHHHHHHH

"Vicki, where did you find this?" Henry asked as he stared at the image in her camera.

Moving away from both Henry and the picture, Vicki wandered towards the edge of his bed. "On the tree in the backyard of my mother's home."

"But this looks old."

"Yep." She said brushing a hand across the nearest pillow. The satin of the cover tickled the tip of her finger.

Watching her with narrowed eyes, Henry guessed she was not finding this conversation easy. "How old?"

"Oh, 'bout thirty years."

"At your mother's home. She was living there at the time?"

"We all were. Mom, dad, and me." Her voice cracked and with a sigh she sat upon the bed.

Within the next beat of her heart, he was beside her, pulling her close against him. "Tell me what happened today."

Dropping her suddenly heavy head onto his perfect shoulder, Vicki focused on the blurred wall across from her. When she was certain she could tell her tale without the extra emotions running through it, she began.

And Henry listened.

When she was finished, she reached out and traced the image burned onto the digital screen. In a voice barely above a whisper, she asked the one question she dreaded the answer to. "Is it a mark of Asteroth?"

"No." Henry's voice reverberated against her ear, deep and definite, but it took several moments for her heart and head to catch up with its meaning. When they did, she pushed herself from his shoulder and met his dark blue gaze. Though his words had been an unexpected blessing, the serious expression casting the planes of his face into hardness did little to relieve her.

"What aren't you telling me?"

Henry sighed. "This is a symbol of protection."

"Against what?"

"I can't say."

Vicki frowned. Rising to her feet, she moved several steps away, her famed anger beginning to rise. "Can't or won't, Henry?"

From the edge of the bed, he watched her. With her gone from his side, all warmth seeped from his flesh, leaving him cold once more. Dear God, he thought. Even in her anger she is everything he never dreamed to look for. He felt a stirring in his blood. As his cock hardened, he turned his will upon himself. Now, in spite of his body's desire, was not the time. With the grace of a prince and the stealth of a vampire, he rose and crossed the room to stand before her. His hands ached to take her in his arms, to pull her heat into him, but he did not. Instead, he simply looked at her, willing her to see the truth in his words and the regret. "I cannot."

Her fingers clenched. The muscles in her left arm tightened. Bare toes curled into the thickness of the carpet beneath her feet. Vicki Nelson instinct screamed that she beat the answer out of him. How dare he hold out on her? How dare he keep the secrets that obviously had everything to do with who she was and who she has become?

But that other Vicki, the new Vicki who had so recently opened her heart to him, begged her to hang on, to reign in the rage and listen. "Why?" she asked. Her voice was raw and needy and she hated it, but she could not block out the pain his answer had engendered.

Hearing it, Henry winced. He heard more than just the nuances in her voice, he heard the rapid pounding of her heart, its steady rhythm building with the anger he could smell seeping through her pores. Anger and pain and confusion. She wanted to trust him, wanted to lash out at him, wanted to be held and denying her was killing him. He felt his body sway, betraying him. He pulled up tight and took a jerky step back away from the greatest temptation he has ever faced. "I swore an oath, Vicki."

Vicki drew a breath and felt as if it were the first one she had drawn in hours. "Just swear to me that you had nothing to do with this, to do with my father's death."

Henry's hand shot to his heart as if somehow something inside his chest pained him. "You can ask that of me?"

"I would ask it of anyone who is keeping secrets whether they are your own or not," answered Vicki.

He flinched, but he could not argue the point. Before he knew his own intent, he was once more standing within touching distance, this time her right hand cradled in his. Threading his fingers through hers, he brought her palm to his lips, pressed a sweet kiss in the vulnerable center, then placed that very same spot against his heart. "I swear, Victoria Nelson, I have had not contact with your family prior to meeting…and loving you."

Fingers curling tightly beneath his, Vicki nodded. "But you know who has."

"I know."

"And you're going to…."

"Find out everything I can."

"That will do." A slow smile lifted Vicki's lips, but it did nothing to warm or ease the hard threat in her blue gaze. "For now."

HVHVHVHVHVHVHV

The minute Mike pulled his car up in front of the shop, he was flooded with second, third, and fourth thoughts. The two signs posted on the door proclaiming wit subtle intensity 'Psychic Readings and Tarot Readings' railed against his hormonal urge for vengeance, igniting instead a healthy dose of fear and misgiving instead. Settling his car into park and cutting the ignition, he used the time it took him to get out and move around to the passenger side to paste on what he hoped was his honestly regretful, but I really would have enjoyed it face. Yanking open the door, he held out his hand, cringing inside as her black nailed fingers delicately rested into his upturned palm. When she stood beside him, nearly of an equal height, he ducked his head and sighed. "I am so sorry, Sinead, but I find myself in a bit of an embarrassing situation."

Sinead frowned. "Certainly not, detective."

"Indeed. I have forgotten I had made arrangements to cover a friend's shift tonight."

Feeling her quarry attempt to slip by her, Sinead leaned her body forward until her chest was just a deep breath shy of brushing up against his. "Surely, you have a little time for a quick chat or a nightcap?"

Shaking his head, Mike took a step back. "I'm afraid not. I'm sorry. How 'bout I call you tomorrow after the shift. Maybe we can meet somewhere for coffee."

"Coffee." The word left her tongue with the same tone as if she had stepped into something foul. With eyes ever watchful of her prey's retreat, she slowly dropped her hand to her small black handbag.

Mike, having offered her up another apologetic smile, turned to maneuver himself around the back of his car.

"Detective?"

He jumped, unprepared for having her so close behind him. Suddenly, inexplicably, all desire to retreat flowed out of him as another, more destructive force flowed in; lust. On heels worn thin from always turning back toward something he knew he should walk away from, Mike felt his body twist back toward the devastating beauty who stood grinning against the right bumper of his car.

"Are you sure you don't want to reconsider….Michael?"

Her voice was deep, slow, and filled with the kind of tones no man in his right mind could resist. A hot spear of desire woke inside him, the fierceness of it taking him by surprise.

"She doesn't deserve you, you know," murmured Sinead as she reached for his tie and pulled him toward her. Running her fingers up the silk and across his broad shoulders, she brushed her breasts against him.

"Who…who doesn't?" Thinking was a sober man's vice, thought Mike. Why on earth had he even once considered walking out on all this bountiful temptation?

"Vicki Nelson, of course."

Mike frowned. Vicki….Vicki….His mind struggled to recall the name, put the face to the woman, but for the life of him, he could not remember anything beyond the moistened lips beckoning him to take a taste. So he did what any red blooded smart male who wanted to get laid did; he agreed with the woman. "No, no she doesn't deserve me."

Sinead smiled. Gotcha.


	13. Chapter 13

CONTINUITY: When All Hell Threatens Part 13

DISCLAIMER: Just checked the mailbox….no residual checks yet! Nuts.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:I could just say 'a note from me' but author is such a nice word, don't you think? To bad those greedy s.o.b.s who don't wish to pay our fellow brother and sisters their rightful due don't agree. And a big PHTHTHTHT on those in charge of LT who so vocally declare themselves all about and for women….SNAP Obviously it is run by a bunch of people who are determined to shove into our faces what they believe women should be like, should behave like, are good for, and what we need without caring to truly listen to the millions of us who have laid our hearts bare…and some other parts… and so staunchly and actively supported every part of what has gone into making BT…the show that so many of us are crying out for. Brava to Tanya Huff for not giving up hope, for Kyle Schmid, Christina Cox, Dylan Neal and each and every one of the actors and actresses, crew, writers, staff, and caterer who has worked their butts off to bring us such a treasure. And to all of you out there who have done your part in letting anyone and everyone know what you think about the show in any way you possibly can, you should take a bow as well. No network has seen the likes of this since NBC cancelled Star Trek after its first season back in 1967. Too bad LT doesn't have the balls at this time to even listen to their watchers as NBC did back then. Look at what happened to Star Trek!

There is still hope, Tanya Huff says so, and I will believe her…until the day she says no. However, until that time, there are those of us who sweat in our souls to keep the magic alive. And to that end…I say LONG LIVE BT!

Now, where was I………………………………….?

HVHVHVHVHV

Crowding the luscious brunette beauty as she took out a set of keys and opened her shop, Michael Celucci counted his lucky stars three times over and for an extra bonus round sent up a silent 'Hallelujah and thank you, God." Sometimes being a homicide cop just sucked and lately he felt as if his life had taken a turn around some pretty dicey corners, but here, right now before him, was a treasure worth the discovering.

The door opened, the fragrant breeze it caused fanning the fires of his lust as surely as if someone had pumped up the thermostat on a gas grill. Not wanting to come off as being desperate, Mike fell back on old instincts to control his raging libido. As he followed Sinead inside, his green eyes scanned the environment, cataloguing details with a precision that bordered on compulsive. In the short entry a pine table bore the weight of a red and black oriental lacquered box and an old victrola, its blue and brass speaker sitting silent beneath a large oil painting in a gilded frame. A glass vase of mottled reds, blues, and greens waited, it seemed, to be filled with the fresh cut stems of a florist's bouquet. Further on, a rattan and walnut armoire of indeterminate age stood to the left while down at the end of the hall a three piece folding room divider became the balanced out the drape of a burgundy cloth, its deep rich color highlighted by the glow of an odd looking table lamp set nearby. The air was cold against his cheeks, the kind of cold Mike associated with old warehouses and it held a stillness bordering on expectation. It seemed to steel away the very edges of his lust. All of a sudden, the click of Sinead's dagger like heels accompanied by the swish of his long coat seemed less than romantic. When she turned right and passed through a ruby beaded curtain, the raucous clatter was like fingernails on a chalkboard ripping him the rest of the way out of passion's brain stopping haze.

"You have an…interesting place here." Mike murmured as he fingered marble bust sitting on the remnants of an old desk to the right of the beaded curtain.

Turning, Sinead watched him, her brown eyes reflecting a calculating gleam. "Trappings, set decoration for my clients. It sets the mood for them."

"So you're a charlatan," said Mike as he asked himself silently…what in the world am I doing here? Surely this is exactly what he wanted to avoid, what he wanted Vicki to get away from!

Instead of reacting with anger at his insult, Sinead simply laughed as she seated herself behind a wide desk topped with an old leather box, a crystal ball, an open box of what looked like thin, bleached out Lincoln Logs and a fat black candle sporting the sputtering orange glow of a very weak flame. "Hardly a charlatan, Detective Celucci. Even Vicki Nelson has used my expertise."

"Vicki. Came to see you." His tone was hardly believing.

"More than once, I assure you."

"And you helped her?"

"I tried to protect her against the dark forces she was working with."

"Henry Fitzroy."

Sinead smiled. "He was with her both times she came. It made things, shall we say, difficult."

Mike's lips turned down. "I just bet."

Settling back in her chair, Sinead nodded to the box. "She left something behind, that last time, though. Something I was certain was a message, a cry for help."

Frowning, Mike reached for the box. The flame on the candle sat up and squirmed on the end of the wick as his hand settled on the cool leather just above the open latch. It didn't look familiar and he knew just about every piece of furniture Vicki owned, hell, they had gone out and picked up most of it together. "This box. Vicki left it?"

When Sinead shook her head, her long curling hair flowed seductively about her shoulders, accenting the pale expanse of her breastbone and neck. The urgent dance of the candle flame scattered shadows and light across her flesh. Mike couldn't help but be drawn by the movement, lured then captured as easily as a fly in a spider's web. Though he knew Sinead sat less than three feet from him, her voice seemed to come from some great distance.

"She didn't leave the box, just something inside it. I kept it there so it would be safe until the right moment came along."

Mike licked his lips and struggled to find the right response. "And you're showing me this because…?"

"I think you can guess, detective. You seem pretty sharp witted and extremely strong willed, just as I'm sure Vicki was before Henry came into her life." Sinead leaned forward suddenly, her breasts bulging against the open neckline of her hot pink blouse. "She has changed, hasn't she? Henry has that effect on women. His looks, his vampire power, he can bend anyone to his way of thinking."

"He did that to you?"

Dark eyes, wounded and large met his gaze head on. "Before I knew what he was about, before I knew what he truly was."

"A monster," whispered Celucci.

"Open the box, Michael. See what Vicki left for you."

Concerned that perhaps this truly was something Vicki had left behind as a 'cry for help', Mike lifted the lid.

HVHVHVHVHVHVH

As Henry drove through the nearly deserted streets of Toronto towards the church he had designated to be the recipient of Bridewell's Horde, he found himself growing strangely nervous. It was a unique feeling, one he swore he could not recall experiencing before. It made the silence in his car, the dark intimacy of the interior, disquieting instead of comforting.

At first he thought perhaps he was picking up on emotional cues from Vicki, but by the end of the first mile, he knew that wasn't so. Sitting beside him, her impaired gaze trained on the road beyond the windshield, her heartbeat was calm. The smell of her; that distinct and unique fragrance now laced with the evidence of their mutual satisfaction, remained untainted by any hint of fear. She was sweetness and spice; and he longed for another taste. Just the thought of it, the memory of what had finally transpired between them sent blood pooling into his balls, stiffening his cock. For a moment, just a moment, he was grateful her vision wasn't all that keen in the dark. Nearly half a millennium old and having so little self control was embarrassing to say the least.

Still, his lack of control was not the source of this strange sensation settling in his chest. Indeed, a huge part of him would have been more than happy if Vicki were to discover the physical evidence of his rising desire since for more months than he cared to count she had always disregarded it. However, he was not disappointed when she didn't, because it was not just about sex or desire. Something else stirred inside him.

It was uncertainty. They had breached a wall between them, hell shattered a big portion of it, but now standing on the other side where the word 'relationship'held certain expectations, Henry no longer knew how to proceed. The last time he had engendered a relationship had been nearly five hundred years ago and it had hardly been what anyone could have termed as normal even by the standard of the times. And it wasn't like Vicki was just any woman. She was defensive, prickly, stubborn, complex, confusing, passionate, reserved, and that was just on the surface. He had no idea what she expected, what she would be comfortable with….He only knew what he needed; to reach out and touch her, to be at ease instead on guard against something he might do or say that would set her on a course away from him.

"You're thinking too hard, Henry."

In response to her soft voice in the dark, the hardening flesh behind his zipper pulsed and lifted. Quietly, carefully, he eased his left thigh slight open, accommodating his burgeoning size.

"Henry? Are you okay?" Nearly completely blind by the dimness within the car, Vicki had to rely on her instincts as far as Henry was concerned. The last time he had been this quiet in the car was on the night she had arranged for Mike to ask Henry a few questions regarding a recent murder; the night Mike had betrayed her trust and began a full scale assault on Henry's integrity as well as Vicki's naïveté, the night before he placed on Henry's chest the Illuminacion del Sol. She shuddered at the memory of it. That had been the first time she recognized that no matter how strong Henry was, he was still vulnerable to death and had nearly succumbed to it thanks to Mike's insecurities and Javier Mendoza's insanity. "Talk to me, Henry."  
Henry's fingers tightened on the wheel. For a few seconds more, he debated within himself to voice something he could not understand then a curious thing happened.

She touched him. Light. Hesitant. He felt the brush of her fingers across his upper thigh and gasped.

Startled, afraid she had hurt him somehow, Vicki jerked her hand back. "I'm sorry, I…"

"No!" His left hand descended halting her hand half way between them both. Curling his fingers around hers, he brought her hand back to his thigh and held it there, unwilling to let it go. "I want you to touch me." Henry said into the strained silence. "No, I need you to touch as much as I find myself needing to touch."

Heat, swift and molten pooled into the heart of her feminine center, causing the muscles along her vaginal wall to clench. His words, the deep timber of his voice alone turned her on like nothing else ever could. "That first night with you," said Vicki softly. "The night Norman's demon attacked the two boys in the skate park and I fed you—"

"I remember. You took me home."

"You were in so much pain. You put your life in my hands that very first night." The amazed tone in her voice had Henry looking at her with all too serious a gaze.

"I trusted you."

"You only just met me!"

"I felt as if I have known you forever."

Vicki sighed. She did not argue his words, but neither did she admit to similar feelings within herself. For an entire lifetime she has denied the existence of such romanticized sentiments as soul-mates, other halves, destiny, that to say it out loud now left her feeling slightly embarrassed which was not acceptable. Instead, she continued with her other confession. "I lay with you that night. Watched over you as you took your last breath for the night and…died. I was stunned, appalled and captivated. You had been so fierce and invincible, so savage and yet so graceful, and then so vulnerable. While you slept, I touched you and the feel of you, your very life, beneath my fingers is something that has never gone away. I have wanted to touch you since then, but could not give myself permission to do so."

His fingers, still wrapped around hers, tightened. "Until now."

"Until now," confirmed Vicki.

"Vicki, I—"

"OH! Henry, stop the car!"

Startled by the sharp cry, thinking something wrong, Henry pulled quickly to the curb. "Vicki, what—"

"It's a Mr. Yens!" Vicki shouted. "Oh, thank god!"

Flipping back her seatbelt, Vicki was out of the car before Henry could even think to move. She stumbled on the verge, caught her balance, and headed across the sidewalk to the brightly lit Chinese food restaurant fifteen feet away.

Mouth open in wordless astonishment, Henry counted a dozen heart beats before a low rumbling erupted out of his chest. Laughing mostly at himself, Henry quickly caught her up at the door. "You know," he said as he held open the heavy glass door covered with faded photos of menu options. "You took ten years off my life just now."

With an impish grin, Vicki marched ahead of him. "You can afford it."

"Dine in or take away?" Asked a short Asian man wearing thin black rimmed glasses and a floral apron.

"Dine – in," answered Henry.

"Take away," countered Vicki.

Henry shook his head. "You are not eating Kung Pao shrimp and Mushu Pork in my car."

"I won't spill! Mr. Yens is too precious to waste that way!"

"So you say, but you forget, I've seen you eat."

"We have things to do and places to be before this night is over." She reminded him. Knowing Henry could not argue the point, she faced the waiter. "Take out, please. I'll have an order of shrimp lo mein, almond chicken, and steamed rice."

"And for the gentleman?"

"A carton of napkins," answered Henry.

What he got was a punch in the ribs as the waiter left to put in the order.

"Hey, what was that for?" Rubbing at the spot as if it had hurt, Henry turned his attention from the departing waiter to the woman at his side only to have his heart falter in his chest. "Vicki?"

From a great distance, Vicki heard his voice, even perhaps felt it inside her head, but she could not respond, could not look up from the twin fires rising up from her extended wrists.

HVHVHVHV

A/N: You still with me? Want more or are you growing bored? Let me know, I rely on your responses to tell me if I should keep going.


End file.
